


smile... please, just one smile!

by alphathorinrock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, M/M, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Underage - Freeform, incredibly slow, slight cheating... sorta, sorrynotsorry, younger than stiles! derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphathorinrock/pseuds/alphathorinrock
Summary: Scott and Allison are the proud parents of Lydia and Derek. Lydia is the older sister of an extremely emotionally constipated Derek. Derek is the quietly annoying little brother of Lydia. And then there’s Stiles.Stiles is the mega-adorable, dorky captain of the Lacrosse team. Derek is in love with Stiles. Stiles is dating Lydia. Lydia hates Derek. Derek is a loner... (Well there was Jackson... But he's an idiot, so no one really cares about him!)





	1. inception

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote and posted this fic a few years back and had to take it down for personal reasons, but i've decided to post it again, so i hope y'all like it ^_^ kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated!!! happy reading :)

'Pass the peas, please.' Derek grunted, nudging his sister on the arm. She turned and glared at him, her lip gloss catching the light as she bared her teeth.

He just gave her his 'well' look, waiting, expecting, doing anything to get some damn peas!

'Lydia,' Allison said, rolling here eyes at her uncooperative children. 'Pass the peas to your brother.'

'But MA-AH-UM!' Lydia complained. Allison lowered her eyebrows, and stared at her daughter until Lydia handed the dish to Derek.

Derek smirked at her, humphing triumphantly as he spooned peas onto his plate. 'I won't be at dinner tomorrow,' he said through a mouthful of mash potatoes. He swallowed before continuing. 'I'm staying at Jackson's.' Derek and Jackson had been best friends since birth, well, for as long as they could remember, which was… a really long time… practically sixteen years.

'Okay, son. You can take the Camaro, if you want.' Scott said, spearing his steak and sawing at it viciously.

'Thanks Dad,' Derek said, 'give me permission to drive my own car!' He grumbled; a very sarcastic edge in his tone. When his great-grandfather, Gerard, had died, he had left a small portion of his money to each of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so, considering that cohort only consisted of Allison, Lydia and Derek, there was a lot to go around. His parents had put most of his inheritance into a college fund but left the rest to him for what ever he wanted. What else is a sixteen-year-old boy gonna do with fifty thousand dollars? Buy an expensive, sleek, fancy-pants sports car, that’s what!

'Derek!' Allison snapped. 'Do not talk to your father like that!' She had her narrowed eyes on again.

'Sorry, Mum,' Derek said, mirroring her expression. He shovelled as much food into his mouth as he could until his plate was empty. He grabbed its edges and went to stand, but Allison tisked him.

He rolled his eyes again. 'May I please be excused?' He asked, over dramatically.

'Yes, you may.' Allison said, smiling so that her dimples were showing.

Derek got up from the table and dumped his plate in the sink. He was about to walk away, but he really didn't want his Mum to get her crossbow out again, so he washed off all the leftover goobers and stacked it in the dishwasher. As soon as he stepped off the tiles of the kitchen and onto the plush carpet of the living room, the doorbell rang. Derek's heart thudded, knowing full-well who was standing on the other side of that door.

'Could you get that please, son?' He heard Scott call.

'No.' He mumbled under his breath, but his feet were already moving him in the direction of the door, his hand reaching for the doorknob, opening it without the slightest notion of an instruction from his brain.

Derek was terrified of what was on the other side. And, just as he suspected, his heart began to fight with his stomach as soon as he saw that obtrusively intruding smile on a gorgeous, freckly face and those liquid brown eyes staring right into his. 'Oh, hey Derek.'

Derek tried to smile but his brain had just abandoned ship and now he was a fish in a bucket of sand. Stiles took a step forward and Derek took a step back, flinching slightly as Stiles reached up to pat Derek on the head. He didn't have to reach far; he was only slightly taller than Derek...

Derek ducked his head to hide his smile and the blush of embarrassment from Stiles. He turned and ran upstairs as fast as his feet could carry him, slamming his bedroom door behind him before sliding down it and sitting in a wilted mess on the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The very next day, as soon as school finished, Derek drove speedily through the streets of Beacon Hills straight to Jackson's house. He had the stereo up loud and turned a few heads when he stopped at a traffic light set.

From the day he had started high school, Derek had caught himself staring on too many occasions at a very dorky, very gumby, very adorable teenaged boy. It was weird, because he never stared at other boys like that, or other girls for that matter! There was only him, he only had eyes for Stiles, and he didn't even know why.

The only person that he told about said feelings was Jackson. Jackson couldn't understand why Derek wasn't attracted to other girls, considering he was practically a man god! He was pretty ripped for a sixteen-year-old. His muscles had muscles, even Jackson caught himself drooling at them once or twice, but Derek wasn't interested in any of the girls at school, not even Miss Morell, the guidance councillor. In Jackson's opinion, she was the hottest piece of ass Beacon Hills had to offer, who wasn't related to Derek, that is. Once, Jackson had mentioned how hot Lydia was and nearly copped a mouthful of Derek's fist but when he said that Allison had a "tight, little body", and that he "wanted to get his hands all over it", Derek? Well of course he lost it. That was his mum Jackson was talking about! Totally offensive! And not to mention GROSS! Jackson ended up with eight stitches and a bruised ego.

But nevertheless, he accepted Derek for who he was and he promised to never tell anyone, just as long as Derek promised to never tell anyone that he beat Jackson up. The story was that he had fallen down three flights of stairs in his goddamn mansion... Because, you know, his house has five floors and an elevator because one floor isn't even enough for three people, and stairs are way too much exercise, but you know!

'I don't even get it, though,' Jackson exclaimed. 'He's not even, like, I dunno, good looking or whatever.' He said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

'It's not even that, but,' Derek said. He was lounging on Jackson's bed, flipping through countless channels on his big screen TV, settling on a motocross show. 'There's just something about him. I can't explain it. He's just... special.' There was dreaminess in Derek's voice, like the way a mother spoke about her first born, or the way a guy talked about his car. Jackson felt like puking.

'You got that right.' He said, sprawling out on the bed next to him.

Derek narrowed his eyes. 'I think you and I have completely different definitions for the term "special".' He said.

'Nope, you mean it in terms of superior and I mean it in terms of retarded. They're all the same in the end.' Jackson replied, smirking at his best friend.

'You're an ass.' Derek said as he pulled the pillow out from behind his head and threw it at him.

Jackson batted it away, laughing.

They played video games and ate pizza and Derek fell asleep, sitting on the floor at the end of Jackson's bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he woke up, Derek had a pillow under his face and a blanket thrown over him. He was slightly uncomfortable, probably because he had just slept in jeans and a leather jacket, but there was an emptiness within him which he couldn't quite place.

He could hear Jackson snoring in the bed above him. He rubbed a hand through Jackson’s hair as he picked up his keys from the bedside table.

'Ha... Derek?' Jackson mumbled.

'Shut up and go back to sleep,' he smiled at him when Jackson's eyelids fluttered closed again. 'Thanks for last night.' He said, as he walked through the bedroom door, walking down stairs and to his car.

The streets were practically empty, but it was to be expected. Beacon Hills was a small town, far too small, which Derek was finding out very quickly.

He had stopped at a red light, unable to miss the blue Jeep that was across the intersection from him. Stiles smiled at him and Derek narrowed his eyes beneath his aviators. He waved by lifting his fingers of his right hand from the wheel when Stiles flapped his hand around like an idiot. When the lights changed, he fought the urge to slam his foot on the accelerator but had to contain his embarrassment when his car sputtered to a stop as it stalled. He could see Stiles laughing, but not at him, with him, because he had done the same. Derek stared, because, hey, it wasn't a first, but snapped back to focus when the car behind him beeped their horn. He waved at Stiles, who was still laughing, as he drove past him.

When Derek got home, it was still only eight o'clock, and it was a Saturday, so he shrugged out of his jacket and walked out of his jeans before crawling into bed. He was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When he woke, it was eleven, and Allison was pounding on his door.  He was thankful that his parents let him have a lock, and sound proof walls; he could only just hear Lydia playing One Direction in her room next door. He shoved his head under his pillow and slept for another three hours.

When he woke again, he couldn't ignore the rumble in his stomach anymore, or the itch in his legs, itch for physical labour. He got out of bed and pulled on some shorts, picking up his joggers as he walked out of his room. Allison walked past him and handed him a sandwich on her way up the stairs. He pecked her on the cheek and smiled before saying thank you and sinking down onto the bottom step. After he downed his sandwich, he laced up his shoes and ran out the door. Running was his thing. When he was outside and moving his legs, Derek couldn't help but feel free, happy and totally limitless. He loved to feel the burn in his legs, the strain in his lungs as they stretched to take in more air. It was simply like he was constructed to move, fast and swift, on legs the size of tree trunks.

When he headed home, he was dripping with sweat, so he pulled his t-shirt over his head to stop it from clinging to his body. He was about three houses down from his when, of course, a blue Jeep slowed beside him to match his pace. Stiles wolf-whistled at him, gave him a shit-eating grin and pulled into Derek's driveway.

Stiles waited for Derek beside his car, still chuckling a little when Derek slowed to a walk before walking past Stiles to the front door.

'How does a sixteen-year-old end up with a six pack like that?' Stiles snorted, 'six pack isn't even a good enough description, it’s more like a twenty-four pack! Your not on the 'roids, are you, Derek?' He asked, poking the sweaty muscles of Derek's shoulder.

Derek brushed his hand away. 'No.' He said, gruffly.

'Good.' Stiles said. Lydia had now moved on from listening to One Direction to Justin Beiber. Derek groaned and Stiles chuckled again, before disappearing upstairs.

Derek grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and threw himself down on the lounge, kicking off his shoes.

He opened the bottle and took a long drag, sighing when he could breathe again, affixing a scowl on his face which was to remain for at least the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday passed without any fuss. Derek did his homework, did some of Lydia’s homework and did some of Stiles’s homework just for the fun of it. When he had nothing else to do, he went for a run, far out in the woods, passed the burn out, ramshackle house that he and Jackson used to play in when they were younger. He was truly alone out here, no one would find him if he decided to become a recluse and never return to civility, but he knew he would have to go back, back to his boring life where he was a no body who everyone wanted except the one he wanted. The one he wanted didn’t want him, not even a little bit. He ran further and for longer than he ever had before, running so fast that he was relying on his instincts, feet feeling more animal that human. His skin shuddered and his heart ached. This pain wasn’t enough to hide the thoughts, just enough to keep them at bay. Derek ran through the forest until the horizon was pinking with the going down of the sun. The full moon illuminated the lazy streets as he made his way home. From his little endeavour, he was at least able to resolve one thing: his love for Stiles ran far too deep to be a phase, Stiles was his soul mate and he needed to do whatever he could to prove that to him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A restless night of counterproductive awake-ness ensued and Derek was yet again faced with Monday morning, school, and the prospect of seeing Stiles. Oh joy!

He got up two hours earlier that he usually did and used up a majority of the hot water, got yelled at by his mum about saving the environment and conserving water, ate some cheerio’s, watched three episodes of Ben-10, ate some toast with peanut butter, did about a gazillion push ups and crunches, had another shower and watched an episode of the Winx club (there was no denying it, it was a very enthralling show!) and finally, and very reluctantly, went to school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Danny, Stiles, Lydia and the rest of the Lacrosse jocks, (Derek was just a Lacrosse player, not a jock, he wasn't cool enough to be a jock) were sitting together at their table at lunch. Derek did his usual, hunch over his food and casually (it was so totally casual, it wasn't funny) look up at Stiles every now and then. He was surprised to find Jackson doing the same every once and a while. They both sat, eating slowly and listening to Boyd ramble about how cold the ice skating rink is and Isaac blab about how cool the new edition of Spiderman was. When the bell sounded for them to return to class, Derek looked up one more time, and his eyes met, across the room, with stunning, breathtaking, liquidise, amber eyes.

Stiles had a rueful smile about his lips, Derek dropped his fork and his jaw at the same time. Stiles winked at him and Derek looked behind him, checking to see if it really was him Stiles just winked at, and yep, it was. By the time he looked at Stiles again, he was gone. Derek picked up his tray and headed to his next class.

In the hall, he was pinned against the wall by and five-foot-three, strawberry blonde with green eyes.

'The next time you make eyes at my boyfriend across the lunch room, I will have you castrated.' She said, a hand plastered to his chest, nails digging in slightly.

Derek knocked her arm away. 'I have no idea what you're talking about. All the hairspray is making you delusional.'

He tried to move but Lydia pinned him again.

'Oh please, honey! I know you're in love with him and all, but he's spoken for!' She narrowed her eyes.

'I still have no clue what you're talking about!' He said, knocking her hand away again. She let him leave this time, but he turned to speak to her again. 'Oh, and Lydia, you can keep him!'

She shot him a dirty look, but Derek didn't care. Was his love for Stiles that obvious? His scowl was back again, it had run away when his heart cracked and his brain melted from the happiness of Stiles winking at him, but now it was back again, and Derek was glad for its return.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That afternoon, Derek trudged to lacrosse practice, Jackson tagging behind. Coach Finstock had put Derek in first line after he grew ten centimetres and gained fifteen kilos of bulging muscle over spring break. Jackson was still second string, but he didn't seem to mind.

Lacrosse was actually where Derek's love for Stiles had sprung from. It still escaped Derek as to how Stiles had become captain in the first place, maybe it was because of his passion? His pizzaz? His goofiness? One of Derek's more solid theories was that Coach made him captain to throw off their opposition, make them think that the Beacon Hills Cyclones sucked and that it was easy to beat them, but then Derek would come on the field and rip up and prove them totally wrong.

But today was NOT Derek's day. He had dropped the ball about thirty times, got tackled to the ground about twenty-five times, and laughed at by Stiles exactly seventeen times. His playing was that atrocious that Coach actually subbed him out and put Greenberg in his place. Coach hated Greenberg! That was just purely insulting!

Stiles snuck up on him in the locker room.

'What the hell happened to you today, bro?'

Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. 'Ah, just a.... bad day...' He mumbled.

Stiles laughed and slapped him, smack-bang in the middle of his bare chest. 'You better bring your A-game on Saturday! Otherwise you're benched!'

'Sure, ah, you betcha...' Derek had to sit on the bench before his knees gave out on him. He now had a red welt on his chest in the shape of Stiles’ hand, and a little part of him wished it were permanent...


	2. intentions

‘How was school?’ Allison asked as Derek walked through the door.

Derek shrugged. ‘S’ok. Non eventful.’

Allison nodded, following him into the kitchen and watching him as he made himself and his mother a coffee. She narrowed her eyebrows at him. ‘Non eventful, huh? You spent six hours sitting in class rooms and two hours running around a muddy field and nothing happened?’

Derek shrugged again and shook his head, screwing the lid back on the milk bottle and returning it to the fridge.

‘Derek,’ she said, folding her arms and dropping her head at him. Clearly, Derek had inherited his “well” look from his mother, ‘you just made me a coffee.’

‘Ah, yeah?’ Derek said, listening to the chink of the spoon against the mug.                        

‘I had to nag you last time I wanted a coffee.’

Derek just stared at her, passing her the coffee he just made and pinching his eyebrows together.

Allison narrowed her eyebrows. ‘Is it a girl?’ she asked, her dimples showing with the excited smile on her face.

Derek shook his head, resisting the urge to let out a groan and scowl at his mother.

‘Oh,’ she said. Some of the excitement drained and her expression turned to concerned. ‘Is it… is it a boy?’ she stammered.

Derek rolled his eyes. He hadn’t really told his parents about his preference yet, he had only told Jackson, who persisted to tease him about it every day of his life, just to see Derek blush, the ass! But other than that, no one really knew. This probably wasn’t the greatest time, but if Derek didn’t say something now, he probably never would, and that would just be awkward, so… it was worth a shot, right? ‘Mum, I…’ Derek sighed. He used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of his nose.

‘Sweetie, you can tell me anything.’ She said, reaching out to rub Derek’s arm. He peeked at her sideways, relaxing a little when she smiled at him.

‘There’s this one guy, but it’s kinda complicated…’ he said, his voice quiet.

Allison scoffed. ‘All love is complicated. My parents hated your dad when I first brought him home, but now... well, they tolerate him.’ She chuckled, squeezing the muscle under her hand in a means of encouragement.

Derek smiled, unsure of how to untangle the knots of crazy-coloured wool in his head. ‘I think it’s a little more complicated than most.’

‘How so?’

‘I… don’t even think he likes… guys… or… me.’

Allison’s face clouded. ‘Well…’ she tried to sound encouraging, but she really didn’t know how to do that, so she did the best she could. ‘maybe, you can try talking to him? Work out a friendship? You never know, you have a very persuading face,’ She said, smiling a motherly smile and kissing Derek on the cheek when he blushed. ‘Never forget that you are a gorgeous child, on the inside and out, and your father and I love you, no matter what!’ she left him be after that.

Derek walked up the stairs, slowly, thinking about his mothers words on each step. He had practically come out to her, there and then, and she didn’t even care! I mean, he knew they probably wouldn’t mind, they were pretty awesome parents, but still… he told her he liked guys (more specifically, guy, but that was for another conversation) and she accepted him! That was amazing!

When he got to his room, he tugged off his shirt, staring at the welt that was slowly turning purple on his chest. He could faintly see the outline of fingers, of Stiles’ fingers, imprinted on it, and he used his pointer finger to trace it lightly. It tingled, making him shiver in all the best ways. Would it be weird if he took a photo of it? Meh, he didn’t really care about not being weird anymore, so he waltzed over to his mirror and took a photo of his bare chest, shooting a quick text of it to Jackson with a winkey face. Jackson obviously wasn’t impressed, because all he replied with was “-_-“, which made Derek laugh so hard that Allison actually came in to check on him. He went to bed happy that night, happier than he was after lunch, anyway.

 

 

 

The next day, in the lunch room, Derek got an unexpected surprise. Stiles sat next to him, plonking down his tray and relaxing into his seat. He smiled at Derek, whose mouth was hanging open with a piece of half chewed apple hanging out (it was an EXCELLENT look! Really attractive...) as he opened his water bottle.

'What are you doing?' Derek said after swallowing his half-chewed mouthful of apple and choking on it a little.

'Um, sitting?' Stiles said. 'Is it illegal for me to sit here?'

Jackson walked over and set his tray down in front of Stiles, confused but cool enough to go along with it without saying anything. Derek silently thanked Jackson and praised himself for his friend choice.

'No, its not. I just... thought you'd rather sit with Lydia.' Derek looked over at his sister as he said it, just at the right time, because her eyes were giving him death threats.

'You say that a lot.' Stiles said.

'What?' Derek asked. Jackson scoffed, clearly picking up on the strand that Stiles was pulling.

'That too. You have a seriously limited vocabulary, bud. You should try and expand it sometime.' Stiles said, smiling at Derek. Derek couldn't help but commit to memory the way that the sun was illuminating Stiles's eyes, the way it made them dance like flames on dry grass. It was so beautiful, so majestic, that Derek nearly lost his train of thought. Jackson cleared his throat and nudged Derek with his foot under the table. Derek would seriously have to thank him for being such an awesome friend, maybe buy him some chocolates, or a key ring...

'My vocabulary is fine.' Derek eventually spat out.

'Really?' Stiles scoffed. 'That’s the longest completed sentence I've ever heard you string together.' He said.

'That's because my brain to mouth filter actually works.' Derek rebutted, his bottom lip jutting out a little into a pout which made Stiles chuckle.

'Touché.' Stiles replied, pulling the lid off of his salad and popping a tomato into his mouth. Derek had to look away, getting a boner at lunch was unacceptable table manners...

Derek sat in silence, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as Stiles and Jackson bickered about which production if Sherlock was the best. Derek was content, finally happy, even if the cause of his happiness didn't belong to him. Nevertheless, he took it in his stride and was thankful enough to not squander this tremendous opportunity he was so graciously given.

 

 

 

‘Dude… Dude?... Derek!’ Jackson was waving his hand in front of Derek’s face as they strolled to their next class, his expression only slightly pissed off on the ‘How Pissed-Off is Jackson?’ meter.

‘Hmmm?’ he hummed, raising his eyebrows as he made the slow journey back to earth and… school… he was at school, a place where sexual fantasies were inappropriate, no matter how PG13 they were! He mentally face palmed himself as he looked at Jackson. For the past fifteen minutes, at least, he was enjoying being lost in the many facets of Stiles, floating around somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, allowing his body to follow the familiar halls of the high school as Jackson babbled about how the TV version of Sherlock was the best because the stories were more realistic, and how Stiles’ reasoning for the movies being better because of the brilliance of Robert Downey Jr. was pathetic. Derek couldn’t really decide; he liked them both, more or less, equally. Robert Downey Jr. provided a more ambiguous approach to Sherlock, whereas Benedict Cumberbatch was freakin’ awesome! So, you know, they evened each other out in the end.

 ‘You’ve had that ridiculously cheesy grin on your face since lunch,’ Jackson deadpanned. As soon as Derek registered what Jackson had said, his expression dropped into a scowl.

Jackson laughed, ‘Don’t worry, it’s cute!’ he said, taking his seat in front of Derek. Derek tore a page out of his book and proceeded to throw it at the back of his head. He then proceeded to pick up aforementioned scrunched up ball of paper, as well as every other piece of rubbish in the room, and rub the sample essay that the teacher had written up, off of the board. (Note to self: make sure the teacher is not watching when throwing stuff).

English was boring, not as bad as maths, but still very, very, coma-inducing boring. When you had to analyse a text and compare it to others, it just essentially massacred it! Derek didn’t really care that the author used a thousand different metaphors to construct one massive, hyperbolic novel. He didn’t really care that the alliteration in the poem was actually the writer’s way of making fun of poetry. All he cared about was Stiles, how Stiles laughed at him, and how happy Stiles made him feel. So if Derek was counting down the seconds until the school was over and he could go to lacrosse practice? Well, who wouldn’t?

 

 

 

The bell had barely started to even ring before Derek bolted form the class room. Jackson caught up to him in the locker room, that know-all smirk on his face.

‘Desperate,’ He teased. Derek shot him a look, a look that communicated “I will destroy all hopes of you ever reproducing” or something in equivalent, and Jackson put his hands up in defence. ‘Desperate and tetchy.’ He mumbled, and then grabbed all his clothes and ran away as fast as he could when Derek growled.

‘Are you sure you’re not part wolf?’ he heard the voice say from behind him.

Derek tried to stifle a gasp, smiling a little and then schooling his expression into a scowl, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to. He turned around slowly. ‘What?’

‘That was a pretty impressive growl, just saying, the part wolf theory is pretty relevant.’ Stiles said, smiling a small smile, one that Derek knew to be his amused smile, before he quietly howled. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head, scoffing as Stiles laughed at his own joke.

‘STILINKSI!’ Finstock had his clipboard in his hand, waving it in Stiles’ and Derek’s direction.

‘Yes coach?’

‘Stop flirting with your boyfriend and get your team out on the field, we don’t got all day!’

Stiles shrugged apologetically, a slight flush of blood colouring his cheeks. Derek was too busy focussing on it to actually feel embarrassed, himself. ‘C’mon, kid.’ He said, patting Derek’s shoulder.

Had he?… yeah… he had just called Derek a kid… and it kinda hurt his feelings a little. Why? Why, Stiles? Why?

He growled again, a little less enthusiastically and more annoyed than before, as he picked up his gloves and stick. Stiles chuckled and mock-howled again, holding his pointer fingers to his mouth to make fangs. Derek laughed, a proper laugh, that rumbled through his chest and left a good kind of ache in his stomach muscles. He shook his head again, (how had he gotten himself in so deep? It was a mystery) before following Stiles out of the locker room to the field.

This training was better than the last. Lacrosse was an excellent outlet for frustrations, and Derek had many, many frustrations, so he used Lacrosse as his means of anger management therapy. He had pretty much dropped the whole team on their arses, everyone except Stiles, of course, because Stiles was the only one that was smart enough to run in the other direction when Derek came near, and Danny had become so irritated with Derek scoring on him all the time that he had given up on defending the goals altogether.

 Coach ended up taking Derek off after an hour or so, so that he could “save some of his intensity for the game”, but really, it was because he didn’t want Derek to break anyone, ’cause that would make Derek a dick, and that was bad.

So Derek sat on the bench, watching the training intently, following every movement with his eyes and cataloguing it, the twitch to use his muscles antagonising him. Jackson came and joined him after a while, rubbing his tail bone.

Derek winced. ‘Sorry.’ He mumbled.

Jackson chuckled. ‘I’m used to your ’roid rage.’ He said, smirking. Coach blew the whistle and dismissed them all from training.

‘I’m not on steroids, Jackson.’

‘Sure, sure. Explain that to the drug testers.’

‘It’s high school, there are no drug testers.’ Derek said, waving his hands around to solidify his point.

Jackson rolled his eyes.

‘I’m with Jackson. Muscles like that don’t grow over night, Derek.’ Stiles said, joining in on the conversation. He slung an arm over Derek’s shoulder, waggling his eyebrows at him. The closeness of Stiles’ body forced Derek’s heart out of rhythm. He had to concentrate really hard, just so he wouldn’t drop dead right there and then.

‘Mine did.’ He mumbled, looking down at his chest, looking as if he were inspecting his muscles, but secretly sneaking a look at where Stiles’ hand was resting on his shoulder, ’cause he was a smooth bastard.

Stiles and Jackson scoffed at the same time, and they all went their separate ways once they walked into the locker room.

 

 

So the idea of communal showers didn’t exactly thrill Derek, that’s why he usually just went home straight from school after training, to shower and do whatever else he did when he got home, but he was so sweaty after today’s session that his uniform was clinging to him. He didn’t exactly want to stink out his Camaro, and that was the train of thought that led him to the communal shower…

 He took off his towel and walked in, letting the water turn to steam as it heated up. He wasn’t the first in, but he tried not to think about it as he washed his hair. Guys had all the same junk, right? And it wasn’t like you were forced to look at anyone else. You just… showered… and got out. No big deal, just showering, with others…

And Stiles.

Oh god, Derek thought as the tap beside him turned on, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh GOD!

‘Are you okay, buddy?’ Stiles was naked. Showering. Showering naked… next to Derek.

‘Mmmhmm.’ Derek mumbled, resting his head on the tiles and pinching his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Stiles was showering naked next to him! Yeah, okay, that wasn’t actually working. Puppies playing in the grass, the smell of burning wood, flashes of lightning, water running down the toned muscles of Stiles’ back… totally not working.

Stiles chuckled uncomfortably. Derek was… staring… staring at Stiles… in the shower. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the tap as Stiles soaped his body.

‘I think you got you’re mojo back, you carved up out there.’ Stiles said. Derek forced himself not to look at him, because bad things would happen if he did, very bad things, like Derek feeling the possessive need to touch Stiles. That would be bad. Very bad. Indescribable amounts of bad!

Instead, he laughed. ‘Lacrosse is a good outlet.’ He said.

‘Wow.’

‘What?’

‘I just didn’t think you had so many words in you.’ Stiles laughed.

‘Shut up.’ Derek replied, scowling through the water on his face. He turned off the water, which reduced some of the steam around him and Stiles, meaning that he could see better, a lot better. Goddamnit! Dead puppies, dead grass, houses burning down, getting struck by lightning.

Derek let out a painful sigh, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. He was rambling on about how Derek resembled a Mack truck and how, if he didn’t play like that on Saturday, Stiles would poke him with a blunt object until he was angry enough to rip someone’s head off and let him loose on the field.

‘…so then they’d get all scared and run away and… hey, are you sure you’re ok?’ Stiles said, his expression matching the worried tone of his voice.

‘Ah, yeah. I’m gonna… get out now.’ Derek was beginning to shiver. He had forgotten that he turned the shower off, he was too busy daydreaming, and now he had Goosebumps.

‘Oh, sorry man! You just gotta tell me to shut up sometimes!’ Stiles flailed.

‘I did that.’ Derek smirked.

Stiles nodded in agreement. ‘So you did. Now get out of here before you get pneumonia.’ He said, making shooing motions with his hands.

‘See you, Stiles.’ Derek said, shaking his head as he got out and found his towel.

‘Bye Derek.’

The words rung in his mind, sticking in his ears, because that was his name that Stiles had just said, and Derek couldn’t help but think about how many ways he wanted to make Stiles say his name…


	3. obligations

Derek didn’t really remember falling asleep that night. Hell, he didn’t even remember driving home from Lacrosse practice, eating dinner, talking to his parents, or getting into bed! But he must of, scratch that, he had to have fallen asleep, because he remembered, very distinctly, almost too vividly, dreaming about Stiles. He dreamt about running his fingers through Stiles’ hair, holding his hand, tracing the moles on his neck with his tongue, kissing the pail skin of his stomach, tickling his ribs, doing everything that made Stiles laugh, that made Stiles smile, that made Stiles happy, happy because he was with Derek, and not just around Derek, but truly with him.

He woke up with a smile on his face and a pulsating warmth in his chest. It was a corny, indescribable feeling, one that you could live off of, without food and water, for the rest of your life, because it was so wholesome and benevolent, but it didn’t last long.

In his dreams, Derek had Stiles, to have and to hold, in his dreams everything was perfect, but in reality… in reality, Derek was lonely.

Stupid subconscious. Why was it so cruel?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Derek got up, went to school, went to practice, came home, did whatever else, went to bed, dreamt about Stiles and got up to go to school again the next day. It was a vicious cycle of love/hate, because Stiles and Lydia seemed to get even more lovey-dovey with each other, like that was even possible. If they weren’t attached by the hands, they were attached by the lips and if they weren’t attached at the lips… nope, actually Derek didn’t really want to know the other places where they had attached themselves too, not even a little bit! Nothing much more happened between Derek and Stiles, either, probably because Derek was avoiding him like the plague, so Derek was in a constant state of internal war, hence, hate.

 

At the next practice, Derek practically ran away from Stiles. Like, legit ran, while Stiles called after him. He had taken his time to get to the locker rooms, made sure that Stiles was preoccupied before he went in and got changed, and then left really, really quickly hoping that Stiles wouldn’t see him, but obviously he didn’t leave quickly enough. When Derek walked passed Stiles, he had grabbed him on the shoulder, but Derek shrugged him off. He couldn’t help but catch the look of confusion and betrayal in Stiles’ eyes. Stiles shook his head, excusing himself from the group he was talking to, yelling after Derek’s retreating back and following him out of the locker room. He didn’t stop chasing him until Lydia snagged him on the way out to the field. Derek turned around to catch them tongue wrestling and breathed a double sigh, partly made up of relief, but mostly of frustration.

Jackson shook his head at Derek. ‘So you finally get the opportunity to spend some time with the man of you’re dreams,’ Derek chuckled at that, because Stiles literally was the man of Derek’s dreams, but Jackson didn’t really notice, ‘and now you’re running away from him. You make no sense to me, man!’ he said, exasperated by his best friends emotional incompetence.

Derek just shrugged. It made no sense to him either, but the more time he spent with Stiles, the more attached he became, and the more attached he became, the more vivid his dreams would become. If Derek’s dreams became any more vivid, they would practically become reality, which was something Derek wanted very, very much. But with every new dream about Stiles, the more scars carved their way into Derek’s bleeding heart, because it was becoming more and more apparent just how inaccessible Stiles was. It was like a cruel torture technique. At school, Stiles was there with Lydia hanging off of his arm. At home, Stiles was there, with Lydia hanging off of his arm. His subconscious was telling him that he and Stiles were together, only to have that psychological fallacy thrown right back into his face when he opened his eyes! There was no where that Derek could go where Stiles wouldn’t be, and that was the hardest thing to deal with. Derek was inundated by Stiles, and as good as that could have been, it was not. It was not fun at all.

 

So, with all his wasted time spent on brooding about Stiles and completing school work, the week seemed to fly by, and before he knew it, Derek was on the field on Saturday night, ready to play that holy mother of therapy, lacrosse. After the week that he had had, he definitely needed this. They were playing against the top team in the state of California, not an overall hard game, but it wasn’t gonna be easy, either. Half of the other team were at least twice the size of Derek, so he was going to have immense amounts of fun in this game. Broken bones were all part of the deal, right? They’d just have to suck it up!

As he stood on the field, the cool night air biting his lungs and turning his breath to steam, he shook those impending feelings of self doubt from his body. His parents were there, his Poppa Chris and Nana ‘Liss were there, Lydia was there, Jackson was there, on the bench, as usual, Stiles’ dad was there and Stiles was there, standing in the centre circle, waiting for the game to start, staring at him with his doe eyes and an evil twist in his smile. Derek forced the bile he could feel rising in his throat down so far he hoped it never came back up. The referee blew the whistle and the game was away…

 

By the end of the game, Derek had bruises on parts of his body that he didn’t even know could be bruised! Like his eye, Stiles had accidentally (or so he said) poked him in the eye at half time when he was explaining a new defensive play to him, and now it was bruised. The game was brutal. The other team had this kid that they called “The Abomination”, because he was massive! He had at least a foot on Derek, and a good few pounds too, so yeah, he had taken out just a few of Derek’s team mates. Greenberg and Danny ended up with concussions, a couple of guys rolled their ankles and the benchies had pretty much puked as soon as they hit the field, so Coach actually played Jackson. And he ripped up! He scored like a boss, defended like a boss, and won the game for the Cyclones like a fricken boss! Coach gave him the weekly MVP trophy and nothing could wipe the smile off of Jackson’s face. Derek was happy for him, and all the attention the team gave him, meant that Derek could hide in the background and continue in his plan to avoid Stiles. So the tables had been turned from love/hate, now it was a win/win. Sort of.

 

Derek wanted to wait for the locker room to clear out before he had a shower, so he decided to talk to his parents for a while after the game. Allison gloated to her father about how extraordinary Derek’s skills are as Scott reminisced with his mother about his times as co-captain of the lacrosse team when he was in high school. The atmosphere was calming, it made Derek feel normal, a little more like a whole human being, rather than a twisted mess of teenage angst and hormones, that was, until his mother called the Sheriff over to talk.

Derek had never met the Sheriff before. Thankfully, their first meet was casual, and not because he was on the wrong side of the law; that would just be awkward. Derek just kept his head down, letting the adults converse and responding when prompted.

‘Oh, how rude of me! Sorry Sheriff, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to my son,’ Allison said, grabbing Derek’s arm. He gave her a look of contempt, but she shot him a look which killed any of his attempts at rebutting. ‘Sheriff, this is…’

‘Derek,’ He said, his gruff tone a contrast to the sweetness of his smile. Derek smiled back, instantaneously comforted for he had stared at that smile on numerous occasions over the years, except on a younger, less battle-worn face, with darker eyes that the faded green he was looking at. He took the Sheriff’s extended hand and shook it, firmly. ‘My son never shuts up about you; it’s nice to put a face to a name.’

Derek felt his eyebrows pull together. ‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah, if he’s not talking about Lydia, he’s talking about you, and how I’m a cruel father for not providing him with siblings.’

The statement made Derek chuckle. He wasn’t sure if it was a complement or an insult, but Stiles talking about him to his father meant that Stiles had to think about Derek, in one way or another, which somehow translated itself to being a good thing in Derek’s mind. ‘That’s… yeah that sounds like Stiles.’ He said, still chuckling about the idiocy of the boy he had unwittingly fallen in love with.

‘Well,’ Allison said, announcing to the group more than an individual. ‘We better be going, we have reservations, you’re welcome to join us, Sheriff Stilinski?’

 ‘Thank you, but I’m on the night shift. Maybe some other time?’ Stiles came out and joined them then, along with Lydia. Derek didn’t hang around for much longer, just said his goodbyes to slip away and brood quietly in the corner of the locker room…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Derek drove down his street, there were cars parked everywhere. His driveway was free, except for Stiles’ Jeep (oh boy, that made him feel good!) so he opened his garage and parked. The music was deafening and he had to fend off multiple couples making out in his front yard just to get to his front door. Of course the victory party was Lydia’s idea. Of course his parents went to stay at his Pop’s place for the night. Of course Stiles was piss-ass drunk. And of course now Derek was sitting alone, in his living room, which was filled with the blurring faces of people he barely new.

He had tried to make it to his bedroom, but as soon as he walked through the door, Lydia was putting a drink in his hand, and refilling it every time it was empty.

‘Just don’t tell Mum and Dad!’ she kept telling him, with a glare that could level a small city. He would nod and drink. That was the sequence; somehow fend off the impenetrable glare, nod like a mad man and down the deliciously sweet drink Lydia had concocted. It had an addictive aftertaste that gave Derek a significant buzz and left him wanting more, and, considering the pretty foul mood he was in and had been in all week, it wasn’t all that hard to say no when Lydia refilled his cup.

So now the world was spinning faster than it normally should have been, due to the unsurpassable amount of alcohol he had consumed, and his house was so crowded, it looked like it was about to burst, reasons that led Derek to determine that the stairs were a no-go zone and the couch was his safest bet. And that’s how he ended up there, trying to watch the sappy love story that was on the TV, but failing miserably because of all the people that were in the way.

Jackson had found him sitting there after a while, and sat down with him, but was whisked away to do shots or a beer bong or something with Danny, and he was pretty sure that Greenberg shared the couch with him at some stage, but he didn’t really care. All Derek could focus on at that particular moment in time was how, if he touched the sore spot of his eye, brilliant colours would spark out in his vision, creating glowing silhouettes of the translucent monsters which dwelled in his head. It was rather fascinating, actually, and quite distracting, so when a pair of bright red Addidas’s fell into his lap, Derek jumped about a mile high off the couch.

Stiles was laughing, rather, cackling, at him, clearly finding Derek’s scared, partially drunk state comical. Derek glared at him.

‘Impressive,’ Stiles said, tipping his beer bottle in Derek’s direction, ‘but not as good as your sisters,’ that provoked an eye roll from Derek, which subsequently sent Stiles into another fit of hysterics. ‘You two are so not alike! Its weird, I mean, you don’t even look like siblings!’

Derek felt his eyebrows draw together, confusion clouding his emotions. ‘You’re point?’

Stiles put a thumb and forefinger to his chin, clearly overdoing a “thinking face”, and hummed. ‘I think Lydia’s adopted.’ He said, matter-of-factly.

Derek chuckled. ‘It’s a possibility.’ He agreed.

‘Damn right, it is! All my theories are possibilities!’ Stiles exclaimed.

An eyebrow inched towards Derek’s hairline. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘So the theory that I am part wolf?’

‘Is totally and utterly viable.’ Stiles said, crossing his arms and raising his chin in a way that made him look like a defiant two-year-old. It was enough to amuse Derek’s alcohol frazzled brain and he laughed.

He pushed Stiles’ feet out of his lap, movement making Stiles jerk forward, which put him right in Derek’s personal bubble, merely inches from his face. Stiles was still laughing, but Derek had stopped, the bubbles of energetic air sucked out of his lungs by the shock of being in such close vicinity to Stiles’ face. Stiles stopped laughing with a sigh and took a sip of his beer. Derek could smell other alcohol on his breath, spirits and the same fruity drink Lydia had been giving him. He was paying that much attention to Stiles’ face that he noticed his eyes flutter close and Stiles slowly moving he drifted in closer to Derek. Derek didn’t know whether to move in to, or just… let Stiles come to him. He did neither, turning his head away from Stiles altogether, but cast side eyed glances every now and then to check on him.

It felt like perpetuity had passed, and Stiles hadn’t moved much further. Now that the night was moving along, there were less people in the room, and Derek had a clear view of the TV. Captain Rogers was just challenging Tony Stark to a few rounds in the ring when Stiles crashed into Derek’s shoulder with an ‘ooompf’. Derek felt his heart rate spike at the feeling of Stiles’ breath on his collarbone.

‘Derek?’ Stiles mumbled. Derek let out a strangled noise as a reply, not quite sure how to control his voice box anymore. ‘You’re a good kid.’ Stiles said, nuzzling into Derek’s chest and bringing a hand up to clutch at his leather jacket. Derek was on the verge of hyperventilating, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Lydia walked in with a pitcher of the ridiculously pink coloured alcohol she’d been serving everyone all night. She looked a bit tipsy, herself, and Derek prayed to God that she wouldn’t be bothered about what was before her. He breathed a sigh of relief when she looked at them and smiled.

‘Look at my boys, getting along so well.’ She said, as she carded a hand through Derek’s hair. Stiles shifted and mumbled something incoherent. Lydia chuckled and kissed him on the cheek, filling up Derek’s cup before she disappeared again. Derek cast evil eyes at his sister as she left the room, emptying every last drop of liquid from his cup. He let his arm fall down and hit the armrest, loosing his grip on his cup. He reached down to retrieve it, but Stiles let out a whine of protest at the movement. Derek let out a frustrated sigh, wrapping his other arm around Stiles and rubbing his back a little to soothe him. The last thing he remembered before he drifted off to sleep was an enraged Hulk was jumping out of the SHEILD Helicarrier at an unwitting pilot and the warmth and weight of Stiles in his arms…


	4. distractions

It felt like his head was a bee’s nest and his eyes were made of sandpaper when Derek finally woke up. He was lying on the couch, with his arms pillowing his head and a blanket slung over him. It was too short, so his feet stuck out at the end, but he didn’t really mind, because he wasn’t cold, he had Stiles to keep him…

Stiles wasn’t there. Stiles was gone. Where was Stiles?

Someone cleared their throat, very agitatedly, in the vicinity of the lounge room. The voice was low and masculine and… oh God. Oh God! Derek knew who that voice belonged to. He pulled the blanket up over his head, trying to hide from the disdain he was sure to face if he opened his eyes.

He chuckled. ‘Nice try, buddy,’ Derek whined as the blanket was stripped from his form. Scott was scowling down at him. ‘I’m assuming this mess was you’re sisters idea?’ he asked, his brown eyes looking like stones.

Derek peered over the back of the couch to see Lydia walking down the stairs, a shirtless Stiles following. She gave him a pleading look.

‘No Dad, it was, ah, it was my idea,’ He croaked. Scott raised a single eyebrow at Derek, testing his resolve, but this wasn’t the first time Derek had covered for his sister. He was good at it now. ‘Well you’re always telling me I should be more social…’ Scott’s eyebrow climbed higher, and his head tilted in Derek’s direction. Derek sighed. His head felt like it was going to explode and his stomach didn’t really want to sit still at the moment. He pulled an arm out from under his head and placed it over his eyes. ‘Look, Dad. I don’t really have friends, and I just thought, y’know, chucking a kick-ass party would make me a little more popular…’ He heard Lydia snort from behind him and bit back a growl which threatened to escape from his throat.

Scott hummed, relaxing his eyes and placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I know what you’re doing here, Derek, and you don’t have to cover for Lydia, but you’re not off the hook either.’  Derek shot the biggest filthy look at his sister, who mouthed an apology at him and Scott chuckled. 'Alright you two,' he squinted at Stiles, 'three. I have to go to work, but we will talk about this later. Now, I expect this house to be spotless when I get home!’ he yelled as he walked away.

Derek rolled onto his back and groaned, because it felt like the couch was on water, choppy water, with rolling waves and sharks circling him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to push the pain away, trying to stop the dizziness.

Cool fingers curled around his wrist and pried one of his hands from his face. Stiles looked down at him with a sorrowful grace in his eyes. He put a cup of coffee in his hands, and made sure to curl Derek’s fingers around it. Derek sat up slowly, crossing his legs in front of him. Stiles sat down in front of him, leaving a painful gap which Derek longed to cross but it was no-man’s land, so he stayed put as Stiles scratched at the side of his head with one finger. 'Ah... sorry for ah... passing out on you last night.' He said, the faintest pink colouring his cheeks.

Derek chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. He resisted the urge to moan, because it was perfect! It was exactly the way he liked it! Lydia probably made it, but Lydia made shitty coffee... If Stiles made this, he was a genius! Nothing came between Derek and his coffee, nothing, because coffee was mans best friend and whoever threatened to give him crappy coffee would die a painful and terrifying death but this… the magnificent creation that Derek had the pleasure of consuming? It was pretty much like rainbows in a cup!

Derek looked up out of his lashes, and caught Stiles looking at him, his face pinched like he was sitting on thumb tacks. Oh, right! Stiles was talking to Derek. They were conversing....

'S'ok. I ah... I think I passed out too. No big deal.' Derek said, chucking in a smile at the end, over the rim of his coffee mug.

Stiles looked shocked, and after a tentative moment, he smiled back. 'Wow.' He breathed.

'What?' Derek asked.

'Nothing, you should... you should just do that more often!' He said, pointing a slender finger at Derek’s face.

'What?' Derek’s tone crept up with the confusion.

Stiles chuckled. 'Smile, Derek,' he said, smiling himself. 'You should smile more.'

And he did. He had to smile. Smile at Stiles. He couldn't not smile, his muscles always disobeyed him around Stiles; it was a weakness. Stiles was his kryptonite...

Lydia walked in, a glass of orange juice in her hand; she plonked herself on Stiles' lap and flicked the TV on. For the first time in a long time, Derek didn't want to leave, because even though Lydia and Stiles were being a cutsie couple and giving each other the occasional tongue bath, (I mean come on guys!! PDA much?) he didn't really mind, because when he looked over at them, nine times out of ten, Stiles was looking back at him and he was smiling. Stiles was smiling and Derek was smiling, too. The feeling of loneliness was slowly seeping out of Derek's bones, and he could feel himself creeping towards happiness with every dazzlingly brilliant smile that crossed his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday morning slapped him in the face because Derek was still hung over. Whatever Lydia had put in that punch must have hated him, or it was sufficiently evil (considering its creator, it was very likely), or it was a mixture of both. Derek had chucked his guts every time he so much as thought about food yesterday, and he had already puked two times since he got up. He clung to the banister as he walked down the stairs, afraid that he may have fallen over if he didn't.

Allison took one look at him when he walked into the kitchen and snatched his keys from the table before he could get close enough to pick them up.

'I'll drop you off today, sweet heart.' She said, making sure to speak loud enough that it made Derek wince. If he hadn't learnt his lesson yet, he most definitely had by the time his mother was through with him.

'You know, if you were genuinely concerned, Mum, you would let me stay at home.' He bickered. The kitchen lights were really bright, and squinting made it worse, so Derek slid his aviators from the top of his head down so that they covered his eyes.

Allison chuckled, giving him a wicked look. 'Mid-terms are coming up; you don't want to miss out on class. Need those straight A’s.' She patted him on the chest as she walked past him.

Derek groaned and guzzled about a gallon of coffee before following his mother out to her Mazda. She dropped him off at school, kissing him on the cheek and saying her goodbyes. Derek had never experienced so much pain before. His eye was still pretty badly bruised, every time someone shoved passed him in the hallway, he wanted to barf, his muscles ached from lacrosse and when the bell rung... it hurt so bad that Derek not only winced, he jammed his fingers in his ears to block out the noise.

At lunch, he had his aviators on again, and was resting his face on the cool exterior of a water bottle.

Jackson set his tray down in front of him. 'Rookie,' he chuckled. 'That’s the first time you've been drunk, isn't it?'

Derek groaned as an answer, pulling off his glasses and dropping his head to rest it on the table.

A smooth palm came to rest on the back of his neck, strong, calloused fingers softly massaging the lumps out of his muscles. 'I told Lydia not to give you any of that stuff!'

Derek would have jumped a mile in the air, if he weren't hung over, that hand had been on his body not even twenty-four hours earlier and he wasn't totally in love with the person that the hand belonged to. He groaned again and heard Stiles chuckle as he took a seat next to Derek.

'Her "punch"', Stiles said, using his fingers to make quotation marks, 'has four types of liquor in it, and I’m pretty sure she puts nitrous in it too.'

Derek rolled his head round to face Stiles and laughed. Stiles' face dropped and he stilled. His hand dropped from the back of Derek’s neck, sliding down the side of his face, his pointer finger stroking his left eyebrow and coming to rest at the corner of his eye. 'Was that... Was that from me?' He asked, in a small voice.

Derek shrugged. 'S'nothing. Its cool, it doesn't even hurt.' He said, smiling as Stiles flicked him on the nose.

Stiles shoved a handful of curly fries in his mouth and sighed before he swallowed. 'Good, because I don’t think the team would like me much if I blinded the star player.'

'Hey!' Jackson interjected. 'I got MVP!'

They all laughed as a calming haze fell over the table. He didn't know if it was the hangover juices, or if it was just the time of the year, but it seemed almost fuzzy, almost luminous, like a dream state, in the crowded lunch room. Derek was smiling, so much that his cheeks were hurting, and he couldn’t stop, because every time Stiles glanced at him, he would smile too. Classes were a blur, clouded by the same milky glow that Derek experienced in the lunch room. Thankfully, the combination of the hang over and the effervescent cloud shrouding Derek’s head made the rest of the day fly.

He walked out of the front doors of the school, scratching his head, wondering just how he was going to get home when an all too familiar Jeep came to a shuddering stop at the curb.

‘Hey LOSER!’ Lydia yelled at him. ‘Get in, Stiles is giving us a lift home.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The car ride home was, to say the least, awkward!

Derek kept forgetting that Lydia was in the car. He would just look over at Stiles and smile like a dweeb, innocently and stupidly, letting his resolve slip in the face of adversity, and extremely pacifying, doe-brown eyes. He’d almost blurt out something stupid, like ‘I love you’, until he’d tune back into Lydia’s pointless ramblings or she’d ask him a question.

He zoned out completely after a while and didn’t tune back in until he was sitting on the couch and Stiles was putting a mug of coffee in his hand again.

After the lunch time spectacular, he was really content, for the first time in a long time. The dreams were still occurring, but they were more of a hallucination now, more than anything. He didn’t know what had caused it, maybe his hangover was wearing off and he was coming down off of his high, but for some strange reason, Derek’s brain just stopped producing happy-juices and started thinking logically, and in Derek’s case, logic? Logic equated to a bag of cats and a black hole, don’t ask why, it just did. When Derek’s thoughts and logic came together, it was like telling a puppy to play nice with a chew toy, it wasn’t happening. It was pure torture; it left him in a depressed stupor which nothing could fix, not even Stiles himself. Because Derek’s logic always told him to stop daydreaming and to grow up because this, this thing, was never going to happen, so he had to stop fantasising about it and telling himself that it could, because there was no chance that it would.

The familiar hand was on his knee this time. ‘Derek?’

Derek’s hollow eyes landed upon Stiles’ sweet face. He didn’t say a word, neither of them did, they didn’t have to, because Stiles was a good person, he really was, and he could clearly see that something was troubling Derek, and it wasn’t his fault, because he didn’t know, but hugging Derek… proooooobably wasn’t the best idea.

As much as he really wanted to return the hug, Derek didn’t. He willed his arms to stay put, forced his hands to grip his mug and not latch onto Stiles, because if he did that, he may never let go… Stiles must have caught his drift after a while, because he dropped his arms and cleared his throat. Derek dropped his eyes to his cup, but caught Stiles’ shy smile in his peripheral vision.

‘Listen,’ Stiles said. ‘Lydia and I are going to the movies tonight, you should come, okay?’ it was an unorthodox invitation, but Stiles never was one for class, and Derek was most definitely going to decline the offer, but he found himself nodding, and a tattered ‘okay’ slipped from his lips before he could scramble the jets.

‘Traitor’ he thought, as his alter ego snickered at him. This was going to be a long night… 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles gave Derek brief details about what time to meet at the movies before he left to go get ready himself. It was weird, going out on a school night, but movies were cheaper on Monday’s, he had no homework to do and his parents were more than happy to let him go (also very strange, look into that later, Derek), so there was really no excuse for him to stay at home. Lydia wasn’t all too happy about Derek tagging along, but she made a point not to complain about it, she showed her love for her brother in mysterious ways… and she didn’t really want to be in any more trouble from her parents, them threatening to send her to community college was hurtful enough to keep her on the rails, not that there was anything wrong with community colleges, but when you’ve been bragging about going to Yale since you were three, they weren’t really a great idea.

When Derek was ready to leave, he knocked on his sisters door, but Lydia told him to get lost, she was still getting ready, applying about the fourteenth layer of makeup not doubt… he didn’t care, didn’t argue about how inefficient it was to take two cars, or how stupid it was, because they were both going to the same place, no, not at all, he was going to see Stiles soon, so he just left. He got to the cinemas exactly when Stiles told him to be there, and Stiles was standing exactly where he said he would be; he smiled at him when he finally noticed Derek.

‘Where’s your sister?’ he asked.

Derek shrugged. ‘I offered her a lift, but she wasn’t ready yet, said she was picking up a friend, anyway.’

Stiles muttered under his breath, scowling at the floor. Apparently, he didn’t particularly like Erica Reyes all that much, but considering she was his girlfriend’s best friend, he sorta had to like her. Well, he pretended to like her, but mostly tolerated her more than anything. Derek had a half smile on his face while he listened to Stiles babble about how Erica claimed to be ‘Cat Woman’ in third grade and had been teasing Stiles ever since he wore a Batman outfit at Halloween when they were younger. He believed that that was where his dislike for her had begun, but he wasn’t even sure, there was just something about her that left Stiles on edge. Plus, he was allergic to cats.

The movie was due to start in five minutes, and Lydia still hadn’t shown up. She hadn’t replied to Stiles’ or Derek’s texts, and hadn’t answered her phone either. At the last minute, Stiles’ phone rang. Before Lydia could even speak, she copped an earful from Stiles. Derek couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation, and Lydia was talking loud enough that he could hear her too.

‘…we’ve been planning this date for weeks, Lydia.’ Stiles whispered harshly.

 ‘How is it supposed to be a date? You invited my brother!’

‘It was a date! Before you invited Erica, it was a date. And Derek’s my friend.’

‘Erica was in crisis! She just broke up with her boyfriend, and it’s really hard for her to adjust!’

‘So her relationship is more important than ours?’ He deadpanned.

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying! Don’t put words in my mouth, Stiles.’

‘Couldn’t. Even if I tried.’ Stiles’ face was impassive, his lips a tight line

‘Ha-ha, very funny. But we can’t come! Erica and her ex were planning to see this movie before they broke up…’

Stiles placed a hand over his eyes and sighed. ‘There are other movies on, Lydia.’

‘Stiles…’

‘Don’t worry about it, the movie is about to start… have fun with Erica,’ And with that he hung up, schooling his expression into a smile as he held his arm out to Derek. ‘Shall we?’

Derek chuckled, but looped his arm through Stiles’ and went into the cinema.


	5. situations

So, he was going to the movies, with Stiles, that was all that Derek needed to know. He didn’t actually know what the movie was about, nor did he care, but now, sitting here, in the dark, he really wished he had taken note of its name. It was a thriller, supposedly, but not really. Ever since Derek saw his great-aunt Kate’s mauled body in her open casket at her funeral when he was five, he never got scared, because nothing else was scarier than real life; nothing else was scarier than death, itself. Well, that’s what Derek thought, anyway, apparently Stiles was scared of B-grade werewolf movies...

It all revolved around this girl whose brother got bitten by a wolf… in the middle of suburbia… nice one there, not even a tree in sight, not even a _shrub!_ Or long grass… just a stray wolf in sleepy town.

So yeah, he gets bitten by a wolf and people die from savage animal attacks. He realises he’s a werewolf but only right before he shifts and forgets straight after and then this whole pandemic breaks out in the town and man eating werewolves are running rampant all over the place. Except the dude’s sister, she has like this… this werewolf protection. All of the other werewolves leave her alone, because they all knew she was the original wolf’s, the _alpha’s_ , sister. If they hurt her, they would be killed; they knew that, so they left her alone. She knew her brother was bitten by a wolf, and she couldn’t work out why all of her friends were disappearing or dying. It was all because of her brother, but, of course, she didn’t work that out… Anyway, she has to live while she sees all her friends being ripped to pieces and it’s her and her brother against the world and blah, blah, blah, boringness, blood, guts, brains, the whole predictable mumbo-jumbo.

Derek sat in his seat, leaning away from Stiles, his hand on the rest in between them while he rested his chin on his other hand, using all of his resolve not to sigh at the ridiculousness of this stupid movie. People actually _enjoyed_ this? Wow. That’s… that’s not even possible… people seriously had to rethink their views on entertainment. It was a terrible movie, the special effects were crap and the story line was more than bland; he would have walked out by now, if he wasn’t there with Stiles. Stiles looked beautiful, in the dull light, with the light from the screen casting shadows over his face. He looked like an angel… a very scared angel, who had no concept of reality and fiction and what actually _was_ scary, but let’s not get into that…

The next scene was predictable. It was _so_ predictable. The dude was right behind her and he was about to pounce any second. _Any second_. But obviously Stiles didn’t get the memo. The big, ugly, badly CGI’d alpha werewolf thing sleuthed out of the shadows and the chick screamed and what did Stiles do? Stiles flailed and grabbed the hand rest, where Derek’s hand already was, and pinned it there. _Crushed_ it there. Derek went into shock. He was entering cardiac arrest for sure, because Stiles was holding his hand.

…sort of.

He grabbed Stiles’ hand and tried to pry it off, but the chick was pretty much getting eaten on the screen, and Stiles was becoming increasingly more terrified, so it was like trying to get one of those Chinese finger traps off; the more he pulled, the tighter Stiles’ grip got. He gave up with a resigned sigh, shifting in his seat and patting Stiles’s hand a little.

The scene on screen was horrifically gruesome, it truly was. There was that much blood and maiming and screaming that even Derek’s stomach was churning. Stiles was shaking. He was visibly shaking. The werewolf raised its clawed hand above the girl’s throat and Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder. Derek lifted his hand from patting Stiles’ hand and patted the back of Stiles head instead, stroking his soft curls and scratching at his scalp, just a little bit, not too much, don’t wanna seem creepy, now, just comfortable… comforting head pats, yeah, friends do that for each other…

…before they file a restraining order and never talk to each other ever again.

Derek dropped his hand and sighed while Stiles used his other hand to pull Derek’s jacket in front of his eyes. The movie was almost over, the alpha ended up losing his humanity altogether. He buried his sister and ran, on four legs, away from the tragedy, never to return.

The credits started to roll and Stiles whimpered. ‘Is it done yet?’ he asked, looking up at Derek through his lashes. He looked a lot younger than he was, younger than Derek, even, when he did that.

Derek chuckled and nodded. He had forgotten his hand was crushed under Stiles’ until the blood rushed back to it and it tingled when Stiles finally released it. It was a relieving feeling, but it was a melancholy one at the same time. Relievancholy? Yeah. Something like that.

Stiles cleared his throat and sat up, straightening Derek’s jacket before he stood. He stretched, making his joints pop. Derek sat there, slack jawed, because that little stretchy, reach up manoeuvre was sexy as all hell! And when he reached his arms above his head, Derek had a perfect view of the taut muscles over Stiles’ hips, and the trail of dark hair leading into his pants. Stiles caught Derek looking at him and winked, shooting him a shit-eating grin. Derek rolled his eyes and jerked his head back, but he could feel the heat crawling up his face, because Stiles had done that on purpose. Stiles _knew_ that that little move was sexy as hell, that _he_ was sexy as hell. Tease.

After a beat, Derek also stood and stretched out his muscles. He couldn’t help but notice the way Stiles tried to subtly watch him, but Stiles and subtlety weren’t the best of friends, they were like fire and water, they could never meet without that obvious sizzle. Yeah, Stiles was never subtle about anything, actually, he was usually really, painfully, awkwardly obvious. Yep. Obvious was Stiles’s middle name.

They walked out of the cinema in comfortable and mutual silence, casting side glances at each other every couple of steps. Derek fought the urge to grin like a schoolgirl with a secret admirer. Instead, he wondered about how long the mutual silence would last for. Surely it wouldn’t be forever, not when Stiles was involved…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surely enough, as soon as they were out of the building and in the cool night air, under the chalky light of the waxing moon, Stiles’ mouth was moving a mile a minute. Derek was nodding his head like a little bobble head toy, trying with all his might to keep up with Stiles’ words, but he was breaking world records here! He hid his laughter under a smirk while Stiles continues to prattle on about the movie, as if Derek wasn’t sitting next to him the whole time or anything.

‘… awwww man! And then, _then_ , he sliced her throat open and shifted back to a human _just in time_ to see her choke on her own blood? That’s… that’s just _gnarly_ , man!’ Stiles said, gesticulating ten times more than usual with the rush of endorphins and adrenaline.

Derek shrugged. ‘I guess it was pretty awesome. But you didn’t even watch it, Stiles.’ He teased.

‘I did _so!_ ’

‘No, you did not. You were hiding behind my jacket.’ Derek deadpanned.

Stiles snorted and scratched at the back of his head. ‘Well… well I _heard_ it, then.’

A little old lady walked past the two of them and smiled. Derek didn’t know if she was smiling at them because their faces (and bodies, you _cannot_ forget those bodies!) are aesthetically pleasing or if it was because she thought they were a couple… they were bickering like a couple… maybe they were a couple? Yeah, a couple of _idiots_!

 _Shut up, Derek_. He thought to himself, squashing down the mental images that were popping up in his head; like Derek curled around Stiles on the lounge in the dark, watching thriller movies, and him sheltering Stiles’ eyes from the scary bits… it was a nice mental image, but utterly unrealistic! Pull yourself together, man!

Derek cleared his throat and nodded once, choking on all of his suppressed feelings, forcing them back down into the recesses below his heart. That’s why his abs were so big, you see… they were full of secrets!

‘Ah,’ he stumbled. ‘Thanks. For tonight. It was fun, I had… I had fun.’ Derek choked out. He sighed and nodded again, pulling his keys out and turning to walk to his car.

‘Well , _hey!_ ’ Stiles said, grabbing a fistful of Derek’s sleeve and turning him around, ‘its still early, why don’t we go get something to eat?’ Well I’ll be damned! Stiles was asking Derek out, in his own subtly unsubtle way, for the second time tonight.

Being the gentleman that he is, Derek wasn’t exactly gonna say no, was he?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As he followed Stiles from the cinema to the diner, Derek was hoping that no one he knew was there. Not that he didn’t want people to see him with Stiles; it was just that if Lydia found out Derek was going on _“dates”_ with Stiles, she would probably chop off his balls, in his sleep, with a spork. So yeah, Derek was trying to keep this on the low down, like, low to the ground, like, below subzero, which is impossible, but accurately portrays how secretive Derek wanted this little endeavour to be…

They pulled into the parking lot and Derek parked his Camaro next to Stiles’ Jeep. He ran his fingers through his hair, breaking apart the little bits of hardened gel as he tried to get his stuff together. On the outside, Derek was stoic; an emotionless wall of muscle, but he was a gooey, half melted marshmallow on the inside, and the more time he spent with Stiles, the more the gooeyness seeped out. But that was the thing, Derek was _terrified_ of spending time, spending _alone_ time, with Stiles. At the movies and at school, it was easy spending time with Stiles, because there were other people who were talking to Stiles, too, (well except for that time in the shower, but Derek thought of that only on special occasions, not when he was in public, wearing skinny jeans, and standing next to aforementioned shower buddy) and Derek could remain his mopey self while Jackson cracked jokes and Stiles gibbered and Boyd ate his corn chips and Isaac told them every fact about Marvel that he knew, which, frankly, was a lot.

So, yeah, Stiles-Derek, _Sterek_ , one-on-one time never really happened. Derek supposed that the universe was finally cutting him some slack and making his dreams a reality or maybe it was punishing him for being a pining, teenaged, lovesick idiot. He hoped, but doubted, thoroughly doubted, that it was the former, but knowing his luck, it was most definitely the latter, for sure.

Stiles was leaning against the back of his Jeep when Derek finally got out of his car. He looked at him with genuine concern in his expression. ‘You okay, dude?’

Derek nodded before his mouth caught up, sighing out a ‘yeah’. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. ‘I was just… letting my parents know where I was.’ _Lie_. He thought, and he knew Stiles could see right through it, too, but he didn’t call him out on it, because he was a very, very nice young man!

Stiles nodded, his head bouncing up and down like he was a Bird of Paradise doing his courting dance for Derek. Derek’s stomach growled and Stiles chuckled, jabbing him in the side with his fingers. ‘Let’s go and tame that wild dog of yours before you eat me.’ He smiled and walked off toward the diner, and Derek followed, like the little puppy he was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know that whole little spiel he made about keeping this on the low down? Yeah, well all that flew out the window when Derek spotted Isaac sitting at one of the tables.

…with Danny.

Oooohhhkaaay… that wasn’t an issue, then, judging by the way Isaac’s cheeks reddened and he dropped his head the second he caught Derek’s gaze. Derek chuckled to himself; Isaac was having the same “issues” as him… it was nice to know he wasn’t alone, but now he was speculating about how and why the whole Danny thing happened, because Isaac and Danny _never_ associated at school; Isaac was a comic nerd, Danny was a cool kid; two things that don’t go together.

Yet again, Derek and Stiles don’t really go together, and here they are, but under a different context, because something gave Derek the feeling that Isaac and Danny weren’t hanging out like he was with Stiles, there was a big flashing light that said “dating” above there table (a metaphorical one, of course, because Derek was as nutty as a fruitcake when it came to this sort of stuff), and Derek was praying that that same sign wasn’t hanging above his and Stiles’s heads. That could be awkward.

Stiles was on a mission; he charged through the diner, going straight to the back, where they slid into a booth. It was different, good different, not weird different, sitting across from Stiles instead of next to him, it allowed Derek to notice more of Stiles’ little quirks, like how he licked his lips a lot, and chewed them when he was deep in thought, and how he used his hands, more than his words, to communicate, but the one that was most obvious was how he used his babbling as a defence mechanism. This perplexed Derek, because as soon as he did anything to make Stiles nervous, like bumping knees with him “accidentally” under the table, Stiles was carrying on like a two-bob watch, talking and talking until the source of his nervousness disappeared. There was no way that Derek was ever going to figure out how Stiles worked, he wanted to, but he didn’t know if he could, or if Stiles would let him.

They ordered drinks first, and Derek stared at Stiles as he massacred his straw in ten seconds flat. Derek, sticking to his ideals of being a gentleman, offered him his straw, which Stiles also destroyed, but slower, making sure to slowly stretch the plastic with his teeth, like the tease he was.

Their meals came and they ate, exchanging small talk and laughing about TV shows and Coach Finstock. Derek must have broken through some of Stiles’ defences, because after a while they started talking about Lydia.

‘It just seems like I’m the only one that tries in this relationship,’ He said, his voice sad and low, ‘sometimes it feels like she’s just dating me for the status.’

Derek scoffed and Stiles stared, wide-eyed, at him. ‘Sorry. I just…’ he sighed, ‘don’t worry, Stiles. Lydia loves you; she just has weird ways of showing people that she loves them. “I’ll pass” is her number one term of endearment, and insulting you is her way of telling you that she cares.’

Stiles chuckled. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’

‘Of course I am; I’ve lived with her for the past sixteen years.’

That earned another chuckle and Derek smiled. They were talking so quietly, Derek didn’t realise that they had somehow gravitated towards each other until he could feel Stiles’s breath washing over his face. Stiles stopped talking, not abruptly, desperately slow, as if he was cutting off his words a syllable at a time, and Derek could see the way Stiles’ eyes were scanning his lips. He smiled again, just a little, letting the expression pull at the corners of his mouth, just to see what Stiles would do. Stiles’ eyes flicked up for a second to Derek’s eyes, and promptly returned to Derek’s lips. He was murmuring something about mini-pizzas and soda, sweet nothings that were totally incoherent because they were still moving, still drifting, coming closer and closer towards each other. They were literally millimetres apart, so close that Derek could feel the heat, the energy, radiating off of Stiles’s lips, they were so close, but right before their lips met, the Sheriff cleared his throat and slid into the booth, next to Stiles.

…

_Awkward._

 

 

 

 

 

‘Ah, Dad. I thought you were still on duty?’ Stiles said, bolting upright under the scrutiny in his fathers eyes.

‘I _am_ on duty, Stiles, but I still get breaks.’ He replied.

Stiles glanced at his watch, giving a ‘huff’ of realisation. Derek was finding the laminate of the table very fascinating.

‘Mr Hale,’ the sheriff said. Derek looked up into the tired eyes of the sheriff and nodded. ‘I hope you and my boy are being sensible,’ Derek nodded again. ‘He’s honest…’

‘Dad, what are you…’ Stiles tried, but the sheriff just talked over him.

‘My son is an honest boy!’ he didn’t break eye contact with Derek, and Derek’s gaze didn’t budge, either. ‘He wouldn’t do anything to purposefully hurt anyone. Now I’m sure that you are also a very nice boy, Derek, but Stiles is dating your sister, so if this,’ he gestured between the two of them with a flick of the wrist, ‘is more than a friendship, you should end it now. Lydia is an amazing young woman and I _do not_ want to see her get hurt, you here?’

‘Yes sir.’ Derek said. Stiles tried to defend Derek, and himself, but the sheriff and Derek both gave him a look that silenced him, making him crawl back into his shell.

The sheriff nodded. ‘Now that that’s clear, what’s for dessert?’

 

 

Derek sat and listened to the father-son banter, fighting off the daemons that plagued his mind. He tried to seem unaffected by what Stiles’ father had said, but the look the sheriff kept giving him was telling him he didn’t look unaffected.

Stiles squabbled at his dad, stealing all of the cream off of his pie, much to the sheriff’s disgust.

‘I am young and fit. You are old and have hardening arteries.’ He said, licking the spoon clean.

The sheriff muttered something unintelligible under his breath and tucked into his food. Derek sat there, in confusion, slowly sipping at his coffee.

He left after a while, with the excuse that it was getting close to his non-existent curfew. His head was buzzing, the sheriff’s words replaying themselves, over and over, in his mind, taunting him, teasing him. He was right, the universe was being a total prick; it had just royally kicked him in the butt for being a pining, love struck teenager. Stiles looked at him with apologetic eyes, but Derek waved him off, thanking him for the night and saying good bye to the sheriff.

On the drive home, he let it out, turning the stereo up loud and screaming out all his frustrations to My Chemical Romance. Screaming was number two on the list of _“How to Let out All of My Frustrations”_ , next to lacrosse, of course, hence why he loved his soundproof walls so much. He didn’t even acknowledge his parents, who were sitting on the couch, when he got home, although he couldn’t help but notice their concerned looks out of the corner of his eye, but nevertheless he went straight upstairs, shooting a dirty look at his sister, who was comforting a hysterical Erica on the bench seat at the end of the hall, and charged into his bedroom, locking the door behind him and face-planting into his bed. His parents had some decency, just a little, because they at least waited five minutes before they knocked on his door, and not impatiently, like he expected, but a knock that was laced with anxiety.

‘Derek, sweetie,’ his mothers soft voice said, filtering through the door, ‘sweetie, are you okay?’

Derek snorted, because it was quite obvious that he was not okay. He could hear his parents arguing outside his door, but he ignored it and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the last hour of his evening, trying to imagine what it would feel like to actually _kiss_ Stiles. His imagination could be very kind, if it wanted to be…

The jangle of a credit card breaking through his lock snapped him back into reality. The bed dipped as Scott sat down, placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

‘I think it’s about time we had that talk, kiddo.’


	6. advocations

It was like being lost to the outside world, living in this expanse of black that kept sucking him in, no matter how many lights he tried to turn on, he was truly and completely gone, and he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back…

Derek buried his face further into his pillows, so much so that he couldn’t breathe. His eyes stung but he fought back the tears. How was he supposed to talk to his _dad_ about this? It would just be… difficult. Scott was slowing patting Derek’s shoulder, soothing him, coaxing him. With a groan, Derek rolled over and faced his father. He couldn’t hold back his feelings any more, he had managed to suppress them for so long, he had had enough of fighting them. They regurgitated back on him, rebelling so fast that it made his head spin. Derek latched on to his father, and Scott, somewhat startled by his son’s unusual account of affection, wound his arms around Derek’s trembling body.

‘If this… if this has anything to do with that boy you told your mother about, you better tell me who he is, so I can teach him a lesson.’ Scott said, trying to sound stern, but lacking conviction.

Derek laughed as he loosened his arms. He wiped away the stray tears from his face and sniffed as his father looked at him with kind eyes. ‘No, Dad. It’s just… me being me.’ He said, trying his best to smile.

Scott shook his head. ‘This,’ he said, patting Derek’s knee, ‘isn’t the Derek that I know. You can’t keep walking around with all these emotions bottled up, kid. I know that I’m probably not the first person on your list to have a heart to heart with, but I’ve been here before. You do know that Poppa Chris shot me, with a _crossbow_ , when I first started dating your mother, right?’ Derek laughed again, his eyes crinkling with the weight of his smile, ‘I mean, he claims that it was an accident, but I’m still a little dubious about it.’ They both laughed together, and Derek realised just how much he _missed_ this, spending time with his dad, just talking to him, because he wanted to and not because he necessarily had to. It was unbelievably comforting.

‘Dad, I… I’m sorry. I’ve been… I think…’

Scott patted his knee again. ‘Its okay, Derek. You don’t have to _work out_ your feelings for Stiles now, I just want you to talk about them.’

Wait, did he just… ‘Did you just say…? Dad, _what did you just say_?’ Derek’s eyebrows drew together and Scott chuckled.

‘What? The part where I said it’s okay? Or the part about your feelings for Stiles?’

Aw _HELL_ no!

Derek’s brain flailed for a little while, his eyes blowing wide as he drew back form his father. He had that feeling back again, that feeling of not having adequate oxidation, of being a fish in a bucket of sand. ‘Is it _that_ obvious?’ he asked when he had regained himself, his voice low as he picked at the little pieces of skin around his fingernails.

Scott paused for a long time, considering how to answer the question without crushing his son’s dreams… hopefully… ‘To be absolutely, perfectly honest, you aren’t really a happy person, kiddo, unless Stiles is here. It’s hard to resist; that kid’s just a bowl of kittens! He radiates happiness! But you never really smile, not unless you want something from someone, but when you’re talking to Stiles, you hand them out for free. To the untrained eye, it just looks like you’re being friendly, but I’ve been there; the lost, little lovesick puppy. I know what to look for, and you tick all the boxes.’ He said, smiling at Derek, trying to make him comfortable. Derek made a mental note to not make such obvious notions around Stiles in future- someone was always watching!

Derek didn’t know whether to confess his undying love for his sister’s boyfriend, or to deny it all and call his father a deranged psychopath who seriously needed to pay less attention to his son. He really, _really_ wanted to go with option two, but he somewhat agreed with Scott- maybe it would relieve some of the pressure to talk about it? Option one it is then, ladies and gentlemen! He let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding, nodding as if he understood, as if he knew the answers to the problems of the universe, but he was as freaked out as toy in a day care centre. Derek opened his mouth to speak, but every time he thought of something to say, he second guessed himself, so all that came out were strangled, half formulated words.

Scott patted his shoulder. ‘You can’t choose who you fall for, Derek, and I don’t care who you like. You could fall in love with a rabbit, and I would be okay with it, as long as it made you happy. Stiles makes you happy, but he’s your sister’s boyfriend.’

‘Damn _straight_ he is!’ Lydia said, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Scott turned around to glare at his daughter as Derek groaned and flung himself backwards, hiding his eyes under his arms. Lydia was standing at the door, her arms across her chest. ‘Dad, tell that freak to find his own boyfriend!’ she said, pointing a manicured nail in Derek’s direction.

Scott’s glare intensified. ‘Apologise.’ He growled.

‘For what? He’s a freak and he knows it.’ She said, picking up a few of her curls and inspecting them.

Scott was glaring daggers, his glare was scarier than Lydia’s, that’s like, classification seven stare.

Lydia’s eyes flicked up to her father and she sighed dramatically. ‘Sorry, freak.’ She said, turning on her heel and waltzing out of the room before Scott could even say anything.

Scott sighed and pulled one of Derek’s arms from his face. ‘Don’t listen to your sister; she’ll get her punishment when we drag her around to all of the colleges _except_ Yale next weekend. More importantly, you are who you are, son, and I don’t want you to change, but for now, just for now, you need to work out your feelings and just… just keep them to yourself. As I said, Stiles is Lydia’s boyfriend, and I will be very disappointed in him if he hurts her, but I’ll be more disappointed if he hurts her because of you.’

Derek glowered at his father. ‘Thank you for this extremely clarifying discussion, Dad, you’ve helped me solve _all_ of my problems.’ He spat, the words dripping with sarcasm. He couldn’t believe how good he had felt before; this was the perfect opportunity to talk to someone, to open up, to admit to his feelings, but then he forgot that the universe was a sadistic cow that hated him.

Scott looked at him, his brow furrowing. ‘Derek, you have to…’

‘Get out,’ he said, cutting Scott off. Scott continued to stare, but his face melted into a look of betrayal. ‘ _Get out.’_ Derek repeated, more sternly. It took him a moment, but Scott stood and left, his palms outstretched in a means of peace.

‘I love you.’ He said when he got to the door. Derek stood, taking two swift steps and swinging the door closed in Scott’s face.

He walked back to his bed, stripping off his clothes and slipping under the covers. As the tears fell from his eyes, he pulled the sheets over his head, using his pillow to muffle his sobs. He didn’t know how long it took for him to fall asleep, but Derek was physically and emotionally exhausted, he fell asleep angry, and his dreams weren’t a walk in the park, either…

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was running, lost in the black again, flicking on switches that made the light bulbs blow, sending a spray of sparks down on him. He could hear Stiles calling his name, taunting him as he raced towards him, but the more steps he took, the fainter Stiles’ voice became. The world suddenly illuminated, and Derek could see Stiles and Lydia on the couch, watching scary movies and Stiles covering Lydia’s eyes when she got scared, he could see them together at the alter, vowing to love each other forever, he could see Stiles holding a child with strawberry blonde hair and doe-brown eyes. Derek could see Stiles’ and Lydia’s future as he ran, he could see them being happy, as he remained in the dark, as he remained alone…

 

Derek startled from his sleep, sweat soaked and gasping, with Lydia’s worried face in the dark, blurring into his vision.

‘Lydia, what the hell are you doing?’ He said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

She looked at him and her eyebrows furrowed. ‘You were shouting in your sleep, I came in to check on you, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.’

‘Since when do you care about me?’ His voice came out a little more spiteful than he intended, but his dream had filled him with such rage, he couldn’t control it.

‘Derek, I… I don’t _hate_ you.’

‘You act like you do.’

‘Well,’ she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, ‘you seem to be fine, go back to sleep, freak.’ She stood and Derek growled, rolling away from her. Lydia pulled the covers up to his shoulders and tucked them around his body, kissing him on the temple before she left.

Derek sighed. ‘Thank you.’ He whispered. He heard Lydia pause at the door, heard her little hum of acceptance before she walked away. Why did this have to be so complicated? Lydia could be a decent person when she wanted to be; why couldn’t Derek be a decent brother and let her enjoy her happiness with Stiles?

Stupid life… it’s not fair!

 

 

 

Stiles was already sitting at his table before Derek got there at lunch the next day. He looked over to Lydia’s table; Erica was blubbering into her shoulder and Lydia looked at him with a pleading look.

Derek sighed as he settled his tray down next to Stiles’. ‘You should be sitting with Lydia.’ He said, before Stiles could think of speaking.

'Why?'

'Because she's your girlfriend and she looks like she needs help.'

'But I hate Erica.'

'I know you do, but you’re not sitting there for her, you’re going over there because you love Lydia.'

Stiles’s face flooded with confusion. ‘If this is about last night, about what my dad said, I’m sorry…’

‘No, Stiles,’ Derek said, fighting his emotions again, ‘you just… you can’t keep avoiding Lydia.’

‘I’m not! She just looks _really_ preoccupied with Erica…’

‘Which is why you need to go over there and help her.’ He said, giving Stiles his “well” look.

Stiles glared at Derek before standing in a huff. 'Fine! But if I get my eyes clawed out by Catwoman, I blame you!' He said, picking up his tray and stalking over to his old table.

‘Stiles, wait up!' Boyd said, walking with him. He sat next to Erica and, even from that distance, Derek could hear him sweet talking her.

Derek saw Lydia reach across the table and Stiles took her hand. They smiled at each other, as lovers do, and Derek did his best not gag. Lydia looked over at her brother, giving him an appreciative nod, which Derek replied to with a smile.

'Just you and me, then.' Jackson said as he sat down across from Derek.

Derek bit into his apple, chewing slowly before he swallowed. It took him a while to take heed of what Jackson had said, and he stared at the empty seats to his right. 'Yeah,' he said, confusion thickening his voice, 'where _is_ Isaac?' He asked.

As soon as Jackson opened his mouth to speak, a tray slid along their table. Danny walked over to it and took a seat, towing Isaac behind him by the hand.

'Boys.' He said, before nodding at them.

Isaac took his seat next to Danny, looking happier than ever. He smiled at Jackson and Derek, as they stared at him in disbelief. Isaac cleared his throat and Danny wrapped and arm around his waist, pulling him in close to kiss him on the cheek. Jackson's jaw dropped so far that it just about hit the table.

'Danny and I are dating.' Isaac announced, his voice wavering as his nerves and embarrassment got the better of him.

Derek burst out laughing, reaching over and slapping Jackson's mouth shut before extending a hand to Danny.

'Congratulations,' he said, as Danny shook it, 'and welcome to the family.'

Jackson was still slow on the uptake, and spent the rest of lunch staring at them in disbelief.

Derek glanced over at Stiles. He looked content, but there was something wrong with his eyes, because Stiles was looking at Danny with a mix between fondness and sadness on his face. Derek was unsure of what it was about, but he knew Stiles was happy with Lydia and that that would make the sheriff happy, so he let it go. His father’s words were what rotated around his brain now. _'Work out your_ _feelings’_. Yeah right, like that was gonna happen!

Jackson kicked Derek under the table, and Derek snapped his head back, trying to hide his blush. Derek was staring at Stiles, something he did often, but had to learn to control himself and Jackson had promised to help him with that. He mouthed a thank you at Jackson- his one and only best friend- who smiled in return, and Derek sat in idle jealousy of Danny's and Isaac's relationship bliss.

Derek could hear laughter, Stiles was laughing with Lydia at Boyd, who was making Erica laugh; they seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, judging by the way Boyd was cradling her to his chest. Derek's jealousy grew. Everyone was pairing up, growing up, dating, falling in requited love; every one except Derek and Jackson, of course. It was a sign; if he wasn’t convinced before that the universe most definitely hated him, Derek was now.

 

 

 

Training was boring, as per usual; the only thing that wasn't boring was the fact that Finstock made Derek co-captain. Finstock made the team gather at the beginning of training and gave them some weird pep talk, no doubt stolen from one of his favourite movies, before announcing the new additions to first line, and then dropping the bomb of Derek's promotion. The room exploded into cheers and yelps and applause, and Stiles looked at Derek with a small smile as he applauded, titling his head at him. Derek got the feeling that he hadn't gotten the co-captaincy role by chance; Stiles had talked to coach, but why? It was a question he wanted an answer to, but he could ignore it for a while, just until training was over. He would focus on getting through training without thinking about Stiles, yes, he would do that, and then ask questions later…

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles caught up with Derek in the locker rooms. 'Derek, I need to talk to you.' He said, his voice hoarse to match the pained look on his face.

'Ah... sure. Why don't you... come for dinner tonight? Lydia's taking Erica shopping and my parents won't be home until later, we'll have time to talk.' Derek said.

Stiles' face lit up and a close lipped smile broke across his face. Derek wanted to touch it, to poke it, to get his lips all over it, but he forced his feelings down, like always, and smiled back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles followed Derek home from training. Derek couldn't help it; he was a man possessed, constantly checking in his rear-view mirror, just so he could see Stiles' face. He had his music up load, again, with Blink-182 blasting out of the speakers; he didn't know the lyrics, but bopped along, nonetheless.

When he got home, he pulled into this driveway and parked in the garage. Derek was frozen, nervousness eating away at his insides. What if Stiles wanted to tell him that he loved Lydia and he never wanted to see Derek again? What if Stiles wanted to call him a freak, too? What if Stiles wanted to tell him he loved him? That he was leaving Lydia _for_ him? And that he wanted to run off into the sunset together and live in a cottage on a farm and have seven sons and three chickens and two goats and a dozen gold fish and a bunny rabbit? Yeah… that last one was highly unlikely, but a guy can dream, right?

There was so many 'what ifs' circling around his head that Derek had forgotten where he was and what he was doing.  Stiles walked into the garage and tapped on his window, and Derek rolled it down.

Stiles chuckled. 'You are most definitely not okay, so don't even try to tell me you are this time.'

Derek was still frozen, staring out of his windshield at the white wall in front of his car. He was so frazzled that he hadn't even turned the motor off, yet. Stiles sighed and opened the door, turning off the car before he crouched down next to Derek. He reached up and put a hand to Derek's cheek, pulling gently so that he would turn to look at him. Derek used all of his will not to lean into the contact, but instead complied with the motion, he kind of wished he hadn't though, because as soon as his eyes hit Stiles' face, his heart broke.

Stiles' eyes were wet, tears threatening to pour over the brim, his mouth was a tight line and his cheeks were splotched red, as if he was stressed from fighting with himself.

'I'm sorry, ' he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, 'about what my dad said. He can be a little rash, sometimes.'

Derek nodded, he didn't care what Stiles was saying, he just wanted to rid him of the sadness in his face. His body was moving faster than his brain, and before he knew it, Derek was unbuckling his seat belt and taking Stiles' face in his hands. He didn't know why, maybe he was inspired by Isaac's bravery at lunch, or he was high on the ego trip of becoming co-captain, but he didn't even think, he just acted, working off of instincts and impulses, letting his feelings take free reign for the first time in a long time. Derek took the plunge, closing his eyes and kissing Stiles full on the lips.

Stiles didn't pull back, like Derek expected him to, although Stiles also didn't wrap his arms around Derek and kiss him back either, so Derek decided not to pressure him anymore. He pulled back swiftly, making it look like he had made a mistake. Maybe he could make it out that he was on an emotional trip? That he had had a brain snap? That he had multiple personalities? They were all very viable explanations...

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't, words had escaped him, because Stiles looked a whole mix of things, from surprised, to amused, to hurt, all rolled into one. He stood and walked out of the garage, wiping at his mouth. Derek got out of his car and followed.

'Stiles. Stiles wait. Please, Stiles, please, I can explain... please, just...'

Stiles reached his Jeep and swung the door open, looking at Derek with a madman's eyes. 'I'm dating Lydia, Derek. _I’m dating_ _Lydia._ ' He said, drawing out the words and bringing his hand down like a gavel, emphasising his statement.

Derek's expression dropped into a scowl and he nodded. He wanted to take it all back, to gush out a stream of apologies and grovel at Stiles feet, begging him to love him, but what he wanted and what he needed were two different things, because what he needed to do was find a deep hole to bury himself in. He watched in agony as Stiles' Jeep retreated down the street, he wasn't sure how long he was standing in the driveway for, but Lydia escorted him to his bedroom when she got home. She tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead, like she had done the night before, but this time, when she pause at the door after Derek whispered thank you, she sighed and whispered 'you're welcome', back. There were no nightmares that night, just ghosts in the darkness... monsters that lived in the recesses of Derek's mind, his only enemies... they kept him company.

 

 


	7. reconciliations

This time, it wasn’t Derek doing the avoiding thing, not that he was really trying to snag Stiles’ attention anyway. He didn’t scream his name from the rooftops, or chase him down the halls in slow motion, or jump up and down excitedly and wave his arms around like a lunatic when he saw him, or write “I love you, Stiles!” in the sky with clouds. No, nope, none of that. None. Whatsoever. He did nothing at all.

He was at least expecting a violent rant from Lydia involving stuffed toys and nail polish being thrown at his head, but that didn’t happen either. When Derek subtly queried her about it, she just gave him a confuzzled look and walked away… Stiles hadn’t told her. That was… that was goo, right? To be honest, Derek didn’t know. He knew nothing at all, because all he had was his feelings, and Stiles wasn’t in arms reach, not even a little bit.

Stiles didn’t sit with him at lunch, he didn’t talk to him at lacrosse practice; he didn’t even show up to school, after a while. Derek had blown all of his chances with Stiles. Every single last one was gone out of the window all because he gave in to his feelings. See? Feelings are evil! They invade on every single moment of your life, make you do so many stupid things, just because they wanted to yoyo around and do as they please. Derek didn’t really hate his feelings, he loved them, because his feelings made him human, and letting his feelings loose for that split second relieved some of his tension. He could live with that, with letting them go, even if it caused him a mile and a half of heartache afterwards. Maybe it was a good thing, to get it out of his system. Maybe now he could leave Stiles alone and let him and Lydia spread their wings.

…maybe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Sunday afternoon and Derek was tired. Beacon Hills had won their game the night before, Derek had scored a majority of their points, but he had to captain alone; Stiles didn’t play. Danny had talked to Derek in the locker room before the game. Apparently the sheriff had picked up the flu and was more or less bedridden, so Stiles was staying at home to take care of him. It was fair enough, the flu could be pretty nasty, and Stiles had already lost one parent to sickness; he would want to keep his father around for as long as possible.

Derek had just closed the lid of his laptop after finishing his economics essay when Allison put a container full of chicken soup and a bag of bread rolls on the table. She looked at him expectantly as Derek looked at her with a look of pure innocence. When Derek had gotten up in the morning, the house was full of the smells of his mothers cooking. Any time anyone in the neighbourhood was sick, Allison would cook something and it was either his or Lydia’s job to deliver it, but Derek knew exactly who Allison was cooking for this time, and to be perfectly honest, considering he was Lydia’s boyfriend, it was her job, her _responsibility,_ to deliver the goods, but Lydia was very cunning and always managed to weasel her way out of things. Allison rolled her eyes and pulled Derek out of his chair by the collar of his Henley. She shoved the soup and rolls in his hands and pushed him into the garage.

‘Take these to the sheriff,’ she said, clicking the button on his keys to unlock the car. It beeped and Allison grumbled in realisation that she had actually _locked_ it, instead of opening it. Derek chuckled, but stopped abruptly when Allison shot him a filthy look. She managed to press the right button and wrenched the driver’s door open, ‘your sister, being the brat she is, refuses to go over there because she doesn’t want to get sick, but you had the flu shot, so you’ll be fine.’ She said, patting him on the shoulder with a wide grin. She pushed Derek backwards and his knees hit the edge of the car; he yelped as he toppled into the seat.

Derek squawked, trying to protest against his mother, but she had that look in her eye, and Derek already felt like a big enough nincompoop by doing what he did to Stiles, so with a resigned sigh, he started the engine. Allison’s smile lost the cheesiness, turning genuine as she kissed Derek on the cheek and shut the door. She waved to him as he pulled out of the driveway and Derek’s heart sank further and further in his chest with every second that brought him closer to Stiles…

 

 

 

Judging by his absurdly desecrated state of mind, Derek was no where near the point of ready to see Stiles. If _Derek_ was this worked up, how angry would Stiles be? Derek contemplated a knock and run, or leaving the food on the doorstep for the Stilinski’s to find, but he knew he would have to man up and speak to Stiles someday… was a week a substantial enough length of time to work out how you feel about being kissed by your girlfriends younger brother? Derek didn’t actually know the answer to that question, but a week, well, _nearly_ a week, would have to do!

He pulled up to the curb outside of the Stilinski house and shut off the engine. If he was home, Stiles would know that Derek was there; the Camaro wasn’t exactly _quiet,_ or conspicuous for that matter. Derek sighed and then drew in a sharp breath. The weather was perfect and the sun was warm, but the wind that whipped up when Derek got out of the car sent a chill down his spine. He wished he had of grabbed his jacket before he left; an extra layer of clothing, another sheet of armour, but he didn’t have it, so he’d have to deal. His heart must have been pretty close to his backside by the time he reached the door, but, as always, his body betrayed him and his knuckles rapped across the wood on their own accord. Derek drew his hand back and covered his forehead, but quickly dropped it to rest at his side when he heard the approach of footsteps.

The door swung open and Stiles poked his head out. He looked so tired, pale faced with large black circles blooming beneath his eyes. Derek wanted to wipe away the damage, but he stood perfectly still. Stiles didn’t shut the door in his face, like Derek expected him to, although Stiles wasn’t doing anything that Derek expected of him lately, so it didn’t really surprise him either.

‘Uh,’ Derek said, intelligently. He held out the soup and the rolls. ‘Mum made these for you. No, not just you… well, yeah you… but your dad, too… because, you know, he’s… he’s ah, sick… and soup helps sick people.’ _Smooth, buddy. Real smooth._

Derek mentally face palmed as Stiles chuckled, offering up an appreciative smile as he took the offerings. Derek nodded, turning to leave, but Stiles put a hand on his shoulder, turning him back around.

‘Woah, woah, woah!’ he said, pulling Derek into an embrace, ‘you don’t get to run away. You at least have to stay for a coffee.’

Stiles was right, Derek didn’t want to run away, he wanted to wrap his arms around Stiles’ delicate body and carry him upstairs and have his wicked way with him, but he couldn’t, on account of the food in his hands, so he kinda just stood there as Stiles clung to him, as if there was a zombie apocalypse and Derek was the first human he’d seen in years. Coffee. Coffee was harmless. Derek could stay, just for one…

Derek cleared his throat and Stiles sighed against his neck. ‘Come in.’ he mumbled, his words muffled by Derek’s skin.

Derek whined at the loss of warmth when Stiles pulled away. Stiles chuckled before taking the soup and tugging Derek inside by his hand. He closed the door behind them and put a finger to his lis before pointing up. The sheriff was asleep upstairs. Derek nodded and followed Stiles into the kitchen. He found an empty spot in the pantry to put the rolls while Stiles put the soup in the fridge. Stiles pushed himself to sit on the bench while he waited for the kettle to boil. Derek wanted, so badly, to walk over there, to awkwardly embrace him, cuddling into Stiles’ chest while Stiles wrapped his arms around his head. He didn’t, he forced his feet to stay put and shoved his hands in his pockets before he did something stupid… again.

He must have been making a funny face, because Stiles was laughing at him. ‘Dude, relax! You look like someone just ran over your cat.’

Derek tried to laugh, but it got caught somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Before he even realised, there was a mix of jumbled syllables pouring out of his mouth. Stiles had to shove his fist in his mouth to choke back on the laughter threatening to spill out. They both silently snickered at each other until the kettle boiled and Stiles made coffee.

It wasn’t all that awkward… not as awkward as Derek had expected.

 

 

 

 

 

They were sitting on the lounge, thighs barely touching through their jeans, sharing a hushed conversation and deliciously warm coffee. The sheriff was still asleep. At least that meant that Stiles wouldn’t be able to yell at Derek…

Derek raked his nails down his thighs, drawing up the courage to speak. ‘I shouldn’t have done what I did… I was outta line.’ He said, going out on a limb.

Stiles’ face contorted. ‘No.’

‘Yeah, really I was. What I did… that was bad, it was wrong, I’m… I’m sorry.’

Stiles chuckled. ‘That wasn’t what I was “no”-ing.’

‘Oh.’

‘What I meant was, I wanted to. God, I wanted to, to kiss you back, like, a lot. I _really_ like you, Derek, but… I’m… well, I was… am…’

‘Dating Lydia.’

Stiles blew out a noisy breath as he nodded. ‘I… I didn’t mean to… if I led you on, I’m sorry, but, you’re so young, Derek…’

Derek groaned. He was a sophomore, Stiles was a senior, it was two years, not that big of a deal.

‘Stiles, it’s cool. You and Lydia are happy, I’m gonna respect that, and leave you alone.’

‘But what if I don’t want that?’

‘You can’t have your cake and eat it, too, Stiles.’

‘No, I can’t, but,’ Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, laced his fingers through his, and Derek’s heart flat out _stopped,_ ‘I never said I was happy with Lydia.’

Derek whipped his head from his and Stiles’ hands to Stiles’ face and back again. Not two seconds ago, Stiles was informing Derek of how young he was, which, _great_ , thanks for that, but now… now they were _definitely_ holding hands, and Derek was confused.

There was a shuffling of feet and a snuffling of noses and the sheriff, with a patchwork quilt wrapped around his shoulders, trundled into the lounge room. He took one look at his son and scowled.

Derek tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he slowly pulled his hand away from Stiles’. ‘I should… I should go.’

‘You should.’ The sheriff croaked.

‘Dad, don’t…’

‘Stiles, shush.’ He snapped at his son, before turning to Derek, but Stiles stood up, putting himself between the two.

‘No, Dad, this time you don’t get to blame him!’ Stiles looked furious, defiantly staring down his father. Derek was simultaneously appalled and turned on, ‘he brought us soup, Dad, this isn’t what it looks like! We were talking…’

‘… and holding hands.’

‘Yes. We were holding hands, as a sign of comfort, Dad. Derek was comforting me, because he’s a good friend. Times have changed since you were young, Dad, friendships work differently. Derek is my friend, nothing more.’ Derek could almost hear the ‘for now’ that Stiles was implying, but he ignored it, focussing on the anger that was slowly flickering out of the sheriffs face. He sighed and Derek took it as his cue to leave.

Derek nodded at the older man. ‘Sheriff.’ He said. He received a muted grumble in return, before the sheriff collapsed into the couch.

Stiles walked Derek out. He kissed him on the forehead before he opened the door. They were out of view of the sheriff, but he could probably still hear them, if he concentrated hard enough, so Derek ruled out shoving Stiles up against the door and mashing their mouths together… there was enough time for that… later… he hoped.

‘I’m gonna work this out,’ Stiles said on a sigh, ‘I can’t guarantee anything, but I wanna work this out, I have to. I really, really like you, like, a lot, a lot, a lot.’

Derek chuckled. He could live with this, with Stiles and him being friends. If Stiles was unable to work things out, he’d be okay, because he could live with knowing that Stiles liked him; it was more than Derek could ask for.


	8. conversations

The days seemed to fly now that Derek knew his place with Stiles. Everyone was more perceptive of their flirting, especially on the field during Lacrosse practice. Stiles took to the tactic of bear hugging when he tackled Derek; they ended up on the ground more than they stayed upright, even Finstock was giving them weird looks. Even though he was happy, there was still this little niggly feeling at the back of Derek’s throat, a persistent anxiety that was slowly eating away at him, because Stiles was sitting with Lydia again at lunch, they weren’t arguing all the time like they used to, but they weren’t the loved up couple anymore, either. They just seemed like friends, and, for some reason, Derek didn’t know if that was good or bad…

 

 

 

Saturday rolled around again. Lacrosse was cancelled because Beacon Hills was experiencing their worst weather in forty years. The skies were grey and the rain was pelting down like bullets from a machine gun. Derek was rejoicing. He had the house to himself on account of Scott and Allison taking Lydia halfway around the country to visit colleges. All he planned to do was eat junk, watch every single Marvel movie ever made, and never lift his butt of the couch all weekend. It was a pretty solid plan, until Stiles showed up…

‘I don’t want a repeat occurrence of party week,’ Scott said, his eyebrow arching even closer to his hairline. Lydia stared at him, reading his expression, and Scott cleared his throat before continuing, ‘so Stiles is going to stay here this weekend.’

‘WHAT?!’ Derek and Lydia said in unison.

Lydia gave Derek a filthy look before turning on her father. ‘You do remember that Stiles passed out on the couch that weekend, right?’ She said dryly.

‘Only because you were pouring tequila down his throat!’ Derek snapped. Stiles gave out an indignant squeak and Scott chuckled.

‘There will be no arguments. I already called the sheriff, and I talked to Stiles, they’re both fine with it.’ Allison said as she walked through the door, toting a wheelie suitcase behind her and an umbrella on her shoulder.

‘Well that’s just precious, but what about me?’ Lydia asked, inspecting her nails before slipping her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist.

Allison stuck her head back through the door and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. ‘Stiles is staying to ensure your brother doesn’t drown in his Cheerio’s, or set the house on fire, or suffocate under the weight of his abs. Stiles is here because I trust him to take care of my baby while I am away. Stiles is here, period. He is not leaving, but we are Lydia, this isn’t about you. Get your things, we need to go!’ She said, walking back out the door and clapping her hands twice on the umbrella stick as she held it over her head.

Scott shrugged and followed her, thumping Stiles on the shoulder and picking up his own umbrella before he walked out. Stiles dumped his duffel on the couch next to Derek and gave him a devilish look. Lydia tugged on his arm and they both walked out the front together; Derek sighed and did the same.

‘We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. There’s a lasagne in the fridge, all the numbers are on the bench, don’t let him stay up past ten and absolutely _NO_ drinking.’ Allison said, with her hand on Stiles’ cheek; she shook him twice to emphasise her last two words. 

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed away from where he was leaning on the door frame to farewell his mother, not really bothering about the rain that was pelting down. He wrapped his arms around her and she nuzzled into his shoulder. ‘Be good.’ She mumbled.

Derek chuckled and kissed her dimpled cheek. ‘Of course.’ He said, giving her a wink to sweeten the deal. She smiled before cupping his face, peppering his cheek with kisses. She looked like she was about to burst into tears as she hiccupped. Derek chuckled again and opened the car door for her. He took the umbrella and Allison dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve after she buckled her seatbelt; Derek was so far in over his head, it wasn’t even funny…

Scott came around from loading the luggage in the back of the car and said goodbye to Derek. He shook his hand and winked. Derek rolled his eyes and pulled his dad into a hug; the plan to have Stiles baby-sit him most certainly came from Scott’s ingenious mind. Stiles and Lydia were talking by the car; they were too far away, Derek couldn’t make out the words, not that he really wanted too, but it looked like an interesting conversation. Lydia’s cheeks were flushed and Stiles’ expression was stuck halfway between a smile and a frown. They both stopped talking all of a sudden, and Lydia huffed before pulling Stiles into a sloppy kiss. Derek had to drop his gaze as a fire of rage burned up his insides. Yeah, he really needed to work on the whole… jealousy… thing…

After what felt like a laborious lifetime, Stiles walked back to doorstep where Derek was standing and slung an arm around his shoulder. He flapped his other arm above his head, waving to the car which was slowly becoming a speck as it drove down the street. He turned to look at Derek, his devious smile firmly plastered on his beautiful lips as he waggled his eyebrows. Derek rolled his eyes and walked inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

' _HEY!_ ' He heard Stiles shout.

Derek chuckled as he walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was just getting the pan up to temperature, using the drops of water that clung to his hair as testers, hearing them sizzle as they hit the metal, when he felt a playful slap on his bottom. ‘Next time you lock someone out, make sure they don't know where the spare key is.’ He said, before kissing Derek on the cheek.

‘Do you want eggs?’ Derek asked. Stiles shrugged and gave a small nod, and Derek cracked another four into the pan.

‘Dude.’

‘Bro…’ Derek poked the eggs, tentatively lifting the edges so the yolk didn’t break. When Stiles didn’t continue, he turned to look at him.

Stiles’ expression was fixed, staring at him in a state of disbelief.

‘What?’ Derek asked, dropping his head in Stiles’ direction as his brow furrowed.

Stiles mimicked his expression, and scrubbed a hand over his face before he flicked it in the direction of the pan. ‘I’m not gonna eat four eggs.’ He said. His tone was so serious that Derek had to use all of his resolve not to laugh.

Quite obviously, he didn’t have a great amount of self control. The cackles slipped from his lungs as smooth as Agron’s sword swiped through flesh. Derek had to clutch the bench top to stop himself from falling over. He wrapped one arm around his stomach, settling his aching abdomen as Stiles pouted at him.

After a while, Derek had righted himself, but he was still leaning against the bench for support. He sniffed, bitting back chuckles and fending off impending tears. ‘You’re cute.’ Derek said.

Stiles was standing much closer now; he had taken over the role of looking after the eggs while Derek was… giggling. He looked at Derek, a smile shadowing his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them.

‘ _You’re_ the cute one. I’m the indescribably hot one that all the girls faun over. ’ Stiles said with the utmost seriousness.

‘Is that so?’ Derek questioned, cocking an eyebrow as Stiles smirked.

‘You know it! Respect your elders.’ He said, pinching Derek’s cheek and waggling it around. Derek chuckled; he snagged Stiles’ fingers and laced his through them, looking at their conjoined hands instead of meeting Stiles’ eyes. They stood like that for a long while before the smell of burning food drifted to his nose, reminding him of his task, and his empty stomach. Not letting go of Stiles’ hand, Derek removed the eggs from the pan and placed them on plates that they both carried to the table.

They sat in companionable silence, always with their hands laced together across the table, and only chatted about the important things, like video games, boobs and peanut butter and jam sandwiches; things of deathly importance that could not go unsaid.

Derek ended up eating two of Stiles’ eggs without realising; Stiles had slipped them onto his plate when Derek wasn’t looking. As Derek was tucking into his sixth egg, he looked up at Stiles, who smiled fondly at him. Derek made to argue, but all the words left him when he met Stiles’ eyes; Stiles’ eyes made Derek believe in the possibility of hypnosis.

‘I told you I wouldn’t eat four eggs.’ He said, shrugging as he refilled his cup with juice.

Derek laughed around a mouthful of half masticated food. ‘Give me one good reason why I should listen to you.’ He challenged.

‘Because you love me.’

The words broke something in Derek’s brain. It wasn’t possible, there was no way, Stiles couldn’t know, _Derek_ barely knew, Stiles couldn’t know for a fact that Derek loved him. It took a while for Derek to realise he was choking, it wasn’t until Stiles was beside him, rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades encouragingly and trying to force juice down his throat, that he noticed his brain was broken because it was begging for oxygen.

‘…just relax, Derek. Breathe. I was joking. Its okay, just breathe.’

Derek swallowed the eggs and downed about a gallon of juice, straight from the carton as Stiles chuckled. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered, using the back of his hand to wipe the juice from his face.

Stiles sighed and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder. His hand was still on Derek’s back, a steady pressure on his tense muscle, a calming warmth. It was nice.

‘S’all good,’ Stiles said when he lifted his head. He looked at Derek, his eyes soft and his smile fond, ‘why don’t you go watch some TV and I’ll clean this up,’ Derek blew a gusty breath out, letting it puff out his cheeks as it whistled through his lips and he nodded, ‘I’ll be in in a sec.’ Stiles said, taking Derek’s plate and placing it in the sink.

Derek trudged into the lounge room, passively watching the flashing colour on the TV screen as he waited for that steady warmth of Stiles again…

 

 

 

 

He was slipping into a food coma as Stiles pried his hands open to curl them around a coffee cup. Derek grinned. ‘Have I ever told you that you’re the best?’ he asked, his eyes crinkling with the expansion of his smile.

Stiles snorted. ‘No. You really go all out on your compliments, though.’ He retorted.

‘Well you are. That’s from the bottom of my heart.’ Derek said, spreading his fingers out on his chest. Stiles didn’t say anything, he just slid his feet into Derek’s lap and smirked, and the companionable silence fell on them again.

 

 

 

Later, when they were both dozing from their bellies full of breakfast, sipping at their coffees that were cooling as the weather raged, they watched Saturday morning cartoons on the lounge and Stiles spoke. His voice was wrecked; it was barely more than a whisper, as he held his bleeding heart out for Derek to hold.

'I... I talked to my dad, you know.' He said.

'Oh?' Derek asked, his eyebrows rasing in a mixture of surprise and concern.

'Yeah... I told him about... about me. About how I feel about guys, and… and you. He was angry, oh _boy_ , he was angry. But not for the reasons I thought he would be.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well I told him... I told him that I think I’m gay... Well, at least bi, and he slapped me over the back of the head,' Stiles chuckled and Derek smiled at him, 'he told me that he had always known that it wouldn't matter to me if I fell in love with a girl or a guy. He said he knew I would fall in love with the person, the character, and not the body. Oh, and that I’m stupid for not telling him sooner.' Stiles smiled at the carpet, not daring to meet Derek’s eyes.

Derek reached out, tentatively lifting his chin, turning his face so that they were looking at each other. This time, their kiss wasn't so cold. This time, Stiles kissed Derek back. He wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, drawing him closer and pushing him down into the couch cushions. Stiles’ mouth was even more amazing to feel than to look at, especially when Derek was feeling it with his own lips. It was warm and tasted of coffee and all Derek could smell was Stiles and he had never been so _comfortable_ before.

Their tongues were lazily battling as Derek's head swam. Everything about Stiles drove him crazy. ‘Stiles,’ he gasped. Stiles wasn’t wasting time, kissing down Derek’s neck and leaving hickies that would be terribly difficult to cover, ‘ _Stiles!_ ’Derek whined, pushing at his shoulder. Stiles hummed and Derek moaned, ‘as much as I am _totally_ for this, we probably shouldn’t.’

Stiles sighed, his tongue slowly tracing circles over the joint where Derek’s collarbone met his sternum. It was just the right mixture of heat and moisture and Derek shivered. Stiles slowly pushed himself up, lifting his weight off of Derek. Sitting up fully, Derek pulled Stiles into his lap, curling around him protectively. They cuddled together for warmth as the sky poured out its sorrow outside. It was as if Derek was finally whole, like he had finally found the missing piece to his puzzle, and now it was hanging on the wall, a complete picture without any gaps, a proud reminder of his efforts.

Stiles sighed again, muttering sorry under his breath, but Derek chuckled and shushed him. He picked up the remote and played Iron Man, _the_ best movie in the history of comic movies, and they clung to each other, providing an anchor point for each others humanity, each others sanity.

 

 

They watched movies for countless hours, and Stiles fell asleep just after nightfall, succumbing to the darkness a long time before Derek did. After he had a stomach full of Lasagne, ice-cream and soft drink, Stiles eyes became heavy, taking no time at all to drift closed. Derek smiled fondly at his face, taking not of the flutter of his eyes as he dreamed. He stroked the back of his hand down his cheek and Stiles smiled in his sleep. It was the most adorable thing Derek had seen in his entire life; he forced his brain to commit it to memory, along with all the other amazing and adorable things Stiles had done. The file in his brain was growing exponentially, and Derek didn’t even care.

At least Allison was right about one thing… Derek had a _very_ persuasive face.


	9. manipulations

Derek woke up with a start in the morning; Stiles was grinning and straddling his legs.

Derek wrinkled his nose, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. ‘Did you just slap me on the forehead?’

Stiles nodded aggressively and Derek groaned, rolling onto his side. He laughed when Stiles slid to the floor with an audible thump. Stiles scowled up at Derek, dragging the crud from the corners of his eyes as he waited for him to stop laughing; it was an impossible amount of time. Derek had gone so long being miserable, so long pining from a distance, thinking that his love was unrequited, but now that it was being reciprocated, that he had Stiles to hold, well, not _entirely_ but close enough, he was finally able to let go, to _smile_ and _be happy_. His emotions all flooded up on him at once, and it was extremely hard to stop laughing once he got started, but Stiles was patient with him, so really it didn’t matter that much. When the bubbles of air began escaping Derek’s lungs at a slower pace, Stiles got up off the floor and pulled Derek to the kitchen by his hands. They made out for a while, slow and contented, as they waited for their toast to pop. When they broke apart, Derek snuffle into Stiles’ shoulder (he had grown in the past couple of months, and was an inch taller than Stiles now) and wrapped his arms around his middle as Stiles caressed the hair on the back of his neck.

Derek breathed in deep, memorising every little detail of Stiles’ scent; the sweet, musky aroma with just a slight hint of _Derek_. He loved it, _craved_ it, a little too possessively. Before his body could get carried away, Derek shifted, so he was more… kissing Stiles’ shoulder, the fleshy bit between his neck and arm, rather than nuzzling it. It gave him more room to see, and he blinked back the little white flecks behind his eyelids. His eyes stung, but not because of the pressure of having them stuffed against Stiles’ _skin_ , they had stung because of the glorious sunlight pouring through the window, sunlight meant _sun!_ That meant nice weather, weather that was good enough to go running in!

Stiles whinged at Derek when he told him his plans about getting out of the house as he was doing the dishes.

‘I’m allergic to exercise.’ He said. It was the fifteenth excuse, with the first being the oh so intelligent “I’m on my period”, yeah, that was just A-class, Stiles!

Luckily Derek knew exactly how to deal with his bullshit. ‘You’re the captain of the lacrosse team.’

‘You do know that you’re too smart for your own good, right?’

Derek smiled, of course he smiled, because he was with Stiles, but he didn’t let it last for long; it was all part of Stiles’ elaborate plan to get out of running. ‘I never said you had to come with me. It was a suggestion. While the weather is nice, I’m going to take advantage of it, but its your choice if you come with me or not.’ Derek said, voice neutral as he flicked the suds off his gloved hands. (Stiles had also teased him about that… “They’re _pink!_ They really bring out the colour of your eyes.”)

‘ _Fine!’ Stiles whined, standing_ from the table and rolling his eyes, ‘I bet I could beat you in a race, anyway.’ He said, winking as he trudged out of the room.

 

 

'Wait... slow down, Forest.' Stiles wheezed.

Derek slowed his pace, not really that fond of the idea of giving Stiles a heart attack, not due to running, anyway…  He stopped entirely and turned around to see Stiles limping towards him, clutching at the back of his thigh.

‘Ah,’ he winced, ‘I think I tore something, I don’t think I can make it home.’ He said, his face twisting in false pain.

Derek rolled his eyes. ‘You probably just corked it. This is why I told you to warm up before trying to run a mile in ten seconds.’ He said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Stiles snorted. ‘I should never have challenged you to a race, even if I was warmed up, I had no chance of winning,’ he said, clasping Derek on the shoulder and leaning on him heavily. ‘I seriously can’t walk though man; I think you _may_ have to carry me.’ He said, looking at Derek expectantly.

‘You’re such a drama queen.’ Derek said. Well, that was what he meant to say. What he actually said was ‘I’ll give you a piggy back’ and then balked at the grin that spread like fire across Stiles’ face.

The walk back home took twice as long. Derek will, till the day he dies, blame it on the fact that Stiles weighs a tonne and _cannot sit still_ , (every five seconds he would slap Derek on the butt and yell “GIDDY UP HORSEY!” and then laughed a trillion times at it until Derek dripped him… then he stopped) but he knew he just wanted to be close to Stiles, to protect him, and liked the way that Stiles snuffled into the back of his neck and nibbled on his earlobe, encouraging Derek when they were walking up hills. He knew he was being selfish, that this wasn’t normal behaviour, but there was a part of him that didn’t even seem to care.

 

 

 

Derek carried Stiles all the way home and dropped him on the couch once he got in the door. Stiles squealed and Derek chuckled as he walked into the kitchen to get him some ice. It was maybe five minutes until he heard Stiles shuffle in behind him, pressing flush to his back. Derek turned and slid his hands under Stiles' shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen and chuckled as Stiles squirmed from the cold. Stiles had his hands in the back pocket of Derek's sweatpants, he could feel them sliding off his waist from the pressure of his touch. 

‘I thought you were injured.’ Derek teased, smiling a little as he nipped at the corner of Stile’s mouth. Stiles sighed heavily and leaned most of his weight onto Derek. ‘I _may_ have been playing it up a little.’ He said, smiling back. Their lips met once more; Stiles pressed his tongue to the corner of Derek’s mouth, and he opened his lips wider to let him in. they let their tongues play lazily as Stiles put more and more pressure on Derek’s sweats.

‘Uh, could you two… _not!_ ’ Jackson complained. Stiles squeaked and they broke apart as if startled by an electric shock. Stiles covered his mouth with a hand, his other on his hip, as Derek smiled sheepishly at him.

Jackson looked between the two of them, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. ‘Hoh, boy!’ he said.

Stiles looked at Derek, blushing a deep red and smiling like a school kid who just got caught eating glue. ‘I’m just… I’ll ah… hi Jackson.’ He said, virtually sprinting out of the room. Derek and Jackson looked at each other, Jackson’s face stern and a smile playing at Derek’s lips. They burst out laughing and all the tension seeped out of the room.

Jackson strolled over, laughter still rocking his body as he extended his hand. ‘Congratulations.’ He said.

Derek took his hand and shook it, but used the leverage to pull him into a hug.

‘ _Lydia! Hey!’_ they heard Stiles say from the other room.

Derek sighed. ‘This’ll be fun.’

 

 

They’d been upstairs for an hour. His family had been home for an hour and a half and Lydia and Stiles were in Lydia’s room, doing whatever they were doing, for an hour. Scott and Allison talked at Derek, telling him about the colleges and the hotels and the road kill and the cute girls (and boys) and how all Lydia did, the whole weekend, was complain about how she missed her brother.

Derek felt sick, physically sick, so much so that he thought he would chuck his guts any second. He rushed up the stairs and headed towards the bathroom, but for some reason, he stopped just in front of Lydia's door; it was cracked open an inch and he could see Stiles, hear him pleading with Lydia. Without any consent from his brain, Derek's body moved closer to the door. The floorboards squeaked under his feet and Stiles head snapped in his direction. Stiles' expression was murderous; Derek felt like a deer in headlights. The door slammed in his face and Derek's legs gave out beneath him. Strong arms wrapped around his torso before he hit the ground, the person grunting as they took Derek's weight. 

'You weigh a metric tonne.' Jackson muttered, dragging Derek into the bathroom. 

Perched on the edge of the bath, Derek began to fall to pieces. He didn't know whether to be excited, nervous or scared, because Stiles and Lydia were fighting, they were fighting because of him, _over_ him... and Derek wasn't one hundred percent positive that that was something to be proud of. It didn’t matter though, because he had something else to focus on, at that moment, Jackson was forcing his head between his knees, trying to soothe his hyperventilation.

'If you vomit on my shoes, I will murder you.' He said.

Derek chuckled and raised his head, smiling at Jackson, whose hand was gently squeezing the back of his neck. 

'I kissed him.' Derek whispered.

'I know, I saw.' Jackson said, turning a little green.

Derek chuckled again, the smile plastered to his face. 'He kissed me.' He said.

Jackson's face pinched together, and he rubbed at his forehead with his free hand. 'Saw that, too. You could've, y'know, at least _warned_ me that you were makin' out with your lover in the kitchen.'

Derek laughed and Jackson slipped an arm around his back to stop him from falling backwards into the bath. 'Sorry, bro.' He giggled out.

'No, like, that’s just gross. I mean, the kitchen? I eat in there, man!'

Derek laughed harder and shoved Jackson backwards. He toppled into the bath and Derek followed him. They laid there for a while, laughing as there legs hung over the edge of the bathroom, until the door opened and Lydia walked in.

She looked at them with one eyebrow raised. ‘What’s so funny?’ she said, slipping between them in the bath.

‘Ah, just this and that.’ Jackson said, stiffening as Lydia’s hair hit his face.

‘I missed you this weekend,’ she said, her voice soft and placid, I missed both my boys.’

Derek had to swallow hard at the lump that had formed in his throat. ‘What… what were you two arguing about?’ he asked, tentatively, wanting to change the subject, not knowing how.

Lydia laughed once and rolled a little, so that her head was on Derek’s shoulder. She peered up at him through her lashes. ‘I stole the soaps from the hotels we stayed at and Stiles gave me a lecture about how its illegal and how his dad is the sheriff, blah, blah, blah. It was quite amusing, actually.’ She said, pulling on her hair that was still draped across Jackson’s face. Derek laughed ridiculously and Lydia started, but soon joined in; the relief was doing strange things to his sanity.

The rest of the evening went by with not even a mention of how Derek’s weekend went, or even a mention of Stiles, because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.


	10. intimidations

The next day at school, Stiles sat with Lydia, Erica and Boyd. Stiles didn’t talk to Derek at all, which was fine, Derek was used to it, but Stiles didn’t look… Stilesy. He looked angry and sad and confused and Derek wanted to do something about it but knew he shouldn’t, it wasn’t his place to. Lacrosse practice was off on account of coach not wanting to lose his remaining testicle to exposure. The year was winding down and the winter chill was setting in, so Derek didn’t mind that much about missing practice; he really just wanted to take Stiles home and cuddle him until he looked happy again.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, Derek left Mr Harris’s class, heading for the parking lot. Jackson was muttering something about hydrogen carbonate ions under his breath, but Derek was otherwise distracted, watching Stiles walk towards him. His face was red and his hands were twitching, fisting and un-fisting at his sides. When he walked past Jackson and Derek, he didn’t even notice them. He looked so angry that Derek didn’t even dare stop him, anyway. Stiles looked like he was a man on a mission and he’d kill anyone, using his teeth to rip out their throats, if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. So Derek watched in confusion as Stiles stalked past him, heading in the other direction. When he got to his car, Lydia was already there, her arms folded across her chest and drumming her fingers on her bicep. As soon as Derek came to view, she put on a scowl strong enough to melt iron.

‘This is your _entire fault_!’ she spat at him, her glare burning hotter and hotter with each second that passed.

‘What? What did I do?’ Derek asked. He had this awful, sinking feeling in his chest, and worried that this may or may not have had anything to do with why Stiles had looked so… _determined_ before.

‘You made my boyfriend _gay_!’ Lydia yelled, and then did a double take when some passers by gave them weird looks.

‘How is that my fault?’ Derek countered, returning her glare ten fold.

Lydia unfolded her arms and closed her eyes, rubbing circles on her temples. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what you did, or what you said, but you, you are going to fix this mess and I…’ she sighed, ‘I am going to be very happy when I go to college so that I can get away from you and all your…’ she took a hand from her temple and gestured to all of Derek, ‘moodiness.’

Derek felt like he was a mentos in a coke bottle. He was seriously contemplating lashing out and clawing Lydia’s face off, but he didn’t.

‘Well.’ He said, opening the driver’s door and intentionally bumping it into his sister’s hip, sending her stumbling into the car next to them, ‘maybe you should apply for early acceptance?’ he said, voice low and raspy. He climbed into the seat and slammed the door closed, starting the engine and leaving before Lydia even had a chance to think about getting into his car. He didn’t look back, just drove straight home on auto pilot, gnawing on his lip until it was swollen and raw and refusing to let himself drive straight into a tree.

 

~             ~             ~

 

Lydia found herself crying puddles in the parking lot. She couldn't work out why Stiles had said what he said to her but she understood why Derek had left her there. She used to adore her younger brother, used to love showing him off to all her friends, used to love how he would always play tea parties with her, without even batting and eyelid, used to love how she would help him with his maths homework and he would help her with her art, I mean, the kid was like a mini Picasso, but now all she had was an emotionally detached muscle god of a brother and a ‘might be, but not entirely sure, gay and totally hot for aforementioned brother’ boyfriend. If only she hadn't crashed, okay, that’s an understatement, totalled her Beetle, then she wouldn’t be here, oozing feelings all over the pavement and creating a puddle that rivalled the Loch Ness.

A silver Porsche pulled up in front of her and that friend of Derek's, the insanely rich and pretty goddamn attractive one, reached over to open the passenger door.

'Need a ride?' He asked.

Lydia wiped away the tears and smiled.  ‘I’m driving.’ She said.

‘Well… I don’t know… it’s an expensive car…’

She swiped at some imaginary dirt on her shirt and inspected the ends of her hair, pulling out the unhealthy ones.

Jackson stopped talking when he realised he was being ignored. ‘ _Fine!_ ’ He said, putting the car in neutral and pulling on the handbrake. Lydia stood with a satisfied smile, slipping into the driver’s seat and revving the engine as she waited for Jackson to get in. Jackson had a smirk on his face as they sped away.

 

~             ~             ~

 

 

 

When Derek got home from school, he was too tired from brooding over Stiles and arguing with Lydia to even contemplate feeding his growling stomach. His parents were still at work and he had no homework to complete so he plonked himself, face down, on the lounge, flicked on the TV and stared at it blankly until the throbbing in his head numbed. After he was fifteen minutes in on a ridiculously corny soap opera, there was a violent knock on the door. Derek ignored it and put his chin back down on the pillow to refocus on the TV. The next knock was more impatient and much more aggravated. He groaned as he got up off the lounge, and opened the door to heartache.

'Is Lydia here?!' Stiles all but shrieked.

It took him a while, Stiles clearly noticing Derek's shock, but eventually he was able to shake his head. He didn't have much more time to think before Stiles was pushing him backwards into the wall, kissing him with such angry passion that Derek had to gasp, more than once.

Stiles ran his hands from Derek's cheeks, to his shoulders and down his sides, taking a firm grip on his hips. Derek kicked the door shut and wrapped his arms around Stiles's neck.

 

~             ~             ~

 

 

Lydia sighed as she sped through the streets of Beacon Hills. Jackson hadn't said anything about her crying, he hadn't said anything at all, and she was grateful for it, actually. She had no idea where to go, but it didn’t really matter, because Jackson directed her to his house anyway. She pulled into the driveway and Jackson visibly relaxed.

‘See? Not a scratch.’ She said as she got out, flicking the keys at him.

Jackson’s smirk turned into an astonished smile as they went into his house.

 

~             ~             ~

 

The boys stumbled all over each other as they scrambled to get up stairs. There mouths never left each others, only for the seconds when they'd tripped or stumbled, but they were intertwined more often than not. Derek stopped when he got to his bedroom door. Stiles was so used to going to Lydia's room that he almost walked right by him. Derek grabbed him by the shoulders and crowded him into the door, closing the annoying gap between their lips and meshing their faces together. He reached for the knob and they fell to Derek's bedroom floor, Derek's weight knocking the air from Stiles's lungs.

 

~             ~             ~

 

Lydia and Jackson went into the kitchen where Jackson proceeded to make his protein shake. He looked at Lydia, perched perfectly in one of the bar stools.

'Ah, would you like some... ah, juice? Or some coffee?' He asked.

She got up from her stool and walked around the counter, never breaking eye-contact until their lips met.

 

~             ~             ~

 

 

'Do that again.' Stiles said, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. He was lying precariously over Derek's body.

'What?' Derek said, his eyebrows pulling together.

'Smile...' Stiles replied, brushing his lips against the creases in Derek's forehead.

'Why?' Derek asked, still unable to release his eyebrows, even with some gentle prodding and a good distraction.

'Could you, just, please? Just one... measly, little smile.'

He couldn't help it. Whenever he was around Stiles, it was like he was no longer in command of his muscles, and they had to obey Stiles’ orders, as a matter of life and death. Derek chuckled and his face cracked into a brilliant smile, a smile which Stiles sat back to get a decent look at.

'Wow! If you did that more often, I would have jumped your bones a long, long time ago!' Stiles said.

Derek laughed. 'Really? _That’s_ all it would have taken?'

Stiles shrugged. 'Probably. I, ah, wanted to ask you out... before...' He started, but got too embarrassed, so he hid his face in the crook of Derek's neck.

Derek knotted his fingers in Stiles's hair. 'Stiles, what? What is it? What were you saying?' He asked, scrubbing little circles into Stiles's scalp.

'I... was actually gonna ask you out... before Lydia asked me out...'

 _'WHAT?!_ ' Derek just exploded. Yep, he was in a million pieces, splattered all over Stiles and around his room... Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...

'Well, you were fifteen, and I hadn't even figured out that I was bi, yet! I mean, me and Danny dated for a while, we just never told anyone... And I didn't think you even liked me! You never talked to me at Lacrosse practice!'

'That's because I was too nervous! And I'm still only sixteen...'

Stiles giggled, Derek made a mental note of Stiles giggling, of how to make Stiles giggle, of how _he_ made Stiles giggle. 'You're almost seventeen, and why would you be nervous about talking to me?'

'Ah, _duh_! Because I love you...' Derek's voice went quiet..

Stiles looked taken aback. 'Wha... yah... and... I've been dating your sister for the past six months, _why_?'

Derek shrugged and lifted his head to kiss Stiles.

'Beats me! She's kind of a bitch,' Derek smiled again. It was just so easy, when he was with Stiles. 'So... What’s going on with you two, anyway?' Derek asked, cautious of rubbing salt into open wounds.

Stiles's face clouded. 'I have no idea... I was hoping to sort it out this afternoon, but I got distracted.' He said, kissing Derek and grinding down on his hips.

Derek groaned in acceptance. There was no way he was gonna say no to this...

 

 

~             ~             ~

 

 

Lydia walked in the door, hair fluffed and messy and make-up smeared across her face, as Derek walked out, swollen lips and hickies up and down his neck. They both looked at each other, confused, and went their separate ways. Derek started up his Camaro and raced over to Jackson's.

'Dude, I've done something terrible!' He said as he burst into Jackson's bedroom.

'So have I.' Jackson replied, too embarrassed to look Derek in the eye.

Jackson's bedroom... smelt. Like sweat and movement. Like how his own bedroom had smelt, before he left. Jackson's bedroom smelt like sex.

Derek narrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Jackson, cracking Jackson's nerves.

'I slept with Lydia!' He blurted out, at the same time that Derek said 'I slept with Stiles!'

They remained frozen in place, stunned, staring at each other and marvelling in the fact that they had both finally lost there virginity... But it was still weird! A part of Derek wanted to pummel Jackson into the last millennium but another wanted to hug him so tight, his head exploded... again. Stiles and Lydia weren't happy together. Lydia had slept with Jackson, Stiles has slept with Derek. Lydia and Stiles... well their relationship was anything but great at the moment! Derek admitted that he loved Stiles and Stiles had returned the favour. Could this actually work out?

 

 

 

 

When Derek got home, he could hear the banter of his family in the dining room. He ignored the gravitational pull of the comfort of his bed and instead, gave in to the appropriately timed roar his stomach let out. Lydia looked up at him when he walked in, giving him a small, apologetic smile as he took his seat next to her. They ate in almost silence, talking only when their parents prodded them to. Derek was just scraping the last of the gravy from the bottom of his plate when Lydia put a hand on his arm.

‘Would you… would you mind… driving me to Stiles’ house please? There’s something I need to do.’ She asked, no bitterness or malice in her voice, just plain Lydia, _nice_ Lydia… that was weird.

 

 

They were about halfway through their journey to Stiles’ house when Lydia cleared her throat. Derek could see her struggling to form words from the moment they left their house, he flinched involuntarily, waiting for the yelling to start, but what came out was a whisper.

‘Derek,’ Lydia said. Derek flicked his eyes from the road to her face, only for a second, to let her know he was listening. It was long enough for him to notice the tears cutting tracks down her cheeks. ‘I didn’t mean what I said… today at school… I don’t blame you. You’ve really been… you’ve really been a great brother, and I’m gonna miss you so much…’ she had to stop because of the violent sobs that shook through her; Derek patted her knee in comfort.

‘I know, Lyds. I know you didn’t mean it, and you should be angry at me, because, I never intended to interfere, it just, it just happened, and I’m sorry it did.’

Lydia scoffed. ‘You can’t help being sixteen and goddamn beautiful.’

They laughed together, and chatted more, about random things, like hair straighteners and hot celebrities and college and weddings and everything beyond and in between. The topic of “Stiles” was still there, but they danced around the edges, both unwilling to cross the salt line into dangerous territory. Everything worked itself out in time, Derek strongly believed that this too, shall pass, but they weren’t angry anymore, so that was a relief.

Derek pulled into the driveway, and Stiles was sitting on the doorstep waiting. The porch light illuminated him, giving him an angelic glow that made Derek smile in fondness. It was the most inappropriate time to be thinking about how _good_ Stiles had felt beneath him, and above him, and _around_ him. He was just so satisfactorily happy, for the first time in a long time, and there Lydia was, balling her eyes out. Derek sat and waited while Lydia and Stiles talked and hugged and talked some more.

After a while, Lydia gestured to him to join them, so he unclipped his seat belt and got out of the car, placing his hand in the one Lydia held out to him. She caught him by the wrist and Derek looked at her, unsure of what she was going to do. He tried to resist, but she locked him wit a gaze that instantly calmed his nerves. Lydia patted his arm with her free hand when he calmed down, and picked up one of Stiles’ hands, placing Derek’s into his and holding their hangs together.

‘You two belong together,’ she said, smiling sincerely at their astonished expressions, ‘it was awful of me to stand in the way. I knew how you felt about each other before you even knew, and I shouldn’t have put myself in the way like that. I’m so sorry,’ she smiled again and Derek bit back tears he could feel forming. He pulled his sister into a tight embrace, hiding his face in her hair to conceal his snuffle. She pulled back and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear with the swipe of a thumb. ‘You two belong together.’ She repeated. They hugged again, and Stiles joined in too. The garage door opened, startling them all, and the Sheriff stepped out.

‘Evenin’ kids.’ He gruffed.

‘Sheriff Stilinski!’ Lydia bounced, chucking a wild smile at the boys before turning. ‘you heading into work?’

‘Sure am. Need a lift somewhere?’ he asked, clicking the button on his keys to open the cruiser.

Within minutes, Stiles and Derek were alone; standing on Stiles’ front porch, hand in hang.

Stiles bumped Derek’s shoulder. ‘How ‘bout round two?’ he winked.

Derek rolled his eyes. ‘How about _coffee?_ ’ he said, tugging Stiles inside by the hand

Stiles shrugged, visibly dejected, but nodding nonetheless. ‘Coffee works.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_One week later…_

'Are you ready?' Stiles asked, placing a hand out, palm up, for Derek to take.

Derek felt like going home and curling back up under his covers and never getting up for the next eternity, but this was Stiles he was standing with, and Stiles was his soul mate, his fated ending.

Derek was able to slow his heart rate to a normal pace and he entwined his fingers through Stiles's. They walked through the doors of Beacon Hill's High, hand in hand, smiling like doofuses and clearly in love. Derek looked at Stiles and smiled, just one smile, the smile he only did for Stiles, and the world was never quite the same again.... Well, the world of Beacon Hills High, anyway...


End file.
